Dracolicious
by Trinkisme
Summary: A Collection of drabbles for when a little dab will do you! All Draco, all designed to be that perfect little hors d'oeuvre of Dramione delight!
1. Velveela

**AN:** It was late at night. I was dead tired from work. And when I become exhausted, everything around me becomes….. _hilarious_! At least to me, it does. Moral of this story: don't cook a grilled cheese sandwich late at night! It will turn into a rhyming drabble!

* * *

 **Velveela**

I didn't think I'd like you  
I didn't know I'd care  
You seemed so unappealing  
It ended up a dare

That got me to attempt it  
A kiss, a taste to gage  
To see if all I'd heard was  
The truth or just a rage

I sampled, then I melted  
Or rather, it was you  
A hot and steamy velvet  
A goodness through and through

I gushed, "I think you're heaven!"  
You smirked, "Of course you do"  
I laughed, "You are one smug man"  
You shrugged, "Your point of view

To me, I am a Veela  
And you? My little Mate  
It's natural to want me  
It's not to hesitate

I blushed, "I thought you phony  
An artificial fake  
A cheesy gross impostor"  
You frowned, "That's hard to take"

I comforted you after  
You said, "It's not a game"  
Velveeta –or– Velveela?  
You smiled, "We're both the same."


	2. Meanies

**AN:** this conversation came from a real life experience.

* * *

Chapter 2: Meanies

Lucius Malfoy, former death eater, had been turned into marshmallow extraordinaire by the tow-headed three year old boy in front of him.

"Gampuh! Mummy and Daddy are meanies!"

"Hush, Scorpius. Don't call your parents names," gently scolded Narcissa.

Lucius grinned. _You're right, my boy_ , he thought. _Mummy and Daddy are meanies._ Draco had gone and married the most famous muggle-born of his generation without caring a fig about what that would do to his father's self-esteem.

Death eater? Bah. Patriarch of the Malfoy Dynasty? Tosh. The house of Malfoy was now ruled by a half-blooded grandson, the spitting image of his father, with the addition of curly hair and never-ending inquisitiveness, courtesy of his mother.

Wizards who had once trembled when in the presence of Lucius now smirked as they watched him melt into an indulging puddle of goo whenever out with Scorpius.

But the elder Malfoy knew how to turn the tables on Scorpius' parents. Lucius had enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing he could exact his revenge by shamelessly spoiling his grandchild whenever the moment allowed, then send him home to let his parents deal with the consequences of it.

Revenge, indeed.

"What's this, Scorpius? Why would you call Daddy and Mummy meanies?" he asked.

"It's tuwoo, Gampuh," the little boy insisted. Turning his big, gray eyes upon his grandfather, he said, "Mummy's gots toys. But shes won't share. And Daddy says shhhh! whens I ask."

Lucius raised an eyebrow while inspecting Hermione's scarlet face. "What _kind_ of toys, Love?"

"Father!" Draco hissed.

"Mummy's gots balls," the little tot explained. Pointing to his mother's well-endowed chest, now enhanced by her second pregnancy, he said, "Mummy's balls. See? I wants to pway wif dem. But Mummy won't share!"

Hermione's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "Scorpius!"

"I believe those are Daddy's toys," Lucius drawled mischievously.

Draco looked about ready to Avada his father.

"Is that tuwoo, Daddy? Do yous plays wif Mummy's balls?"

"Oh, good Lord," Narcissa moaned.

Lucius was too devilish to let the moment pass. "Why don't you ask Daddy if he lets Mummy play with his _bat_?"

Scorpius looked from his grandfather's laughing face to his father's crimson one. "Yous gots a bat, Daddy? Let me see!"

"Do you know what you've done?" Narcissa fussed at her husband. "That child won't stop now!"

Giving Lucius a look that would have made even Voldemort cower in fear, Hermione said, "Scorpius, there will be no more discussion of my brea…uh, balls and er…..Daddy's bat. Do you understand?"

The little boy's face crumpled in disappointment. He tottered over to his grandfather, who picked him up and lovingly held him in his arms.

"There, there, my boy," he cooed as he patted his back. "Gampuh will make it up to you. I'll buy you a toy that _you_ won't have to share."

"Okay," Scorpius mumbled into his grandfather's neck. Squeezing it as tightly as a little boy could, he said, "Yous not a meanie."

Lucius smiled benignly at his exasperated son and daughter-in-law.

 _Ha!_ Lucius thought to himself. _Payback was so sweet!_


	3. He Didn't Know

Chapter 3: He Didn't Know

* * *

Draco Malfoy didn't know.

He didn't know as he walked up the stairs going to the Room of Requirement, that inside the Gryffindor girl's dorms, an event just occurred that would change the direction of his life. He didn't know Ginny Weasley was a seer; Ginny didn't know it herself. He didn't know she had just uttered a prophecy, to the surprise of the only witness in the room, Hermione Granger. He didn't know that just like him, Hermione thought Divination was a rubbish subject. Apparently, Destiny didn't care a jot whether the subjects of prophecy believed in fate; it didn't matter that the two involved in this one were confirmed doubters. Providence had its way of dealing with humans like this.

The first time, it had been spontaneous.  
Draco hadn't meant to protect Hermione from the deatheaters swarming the school's hallways. But something about seeing her determined, yet heartbroken expression triggered a protective response from him. He still thought of Hermione as a filthy mudblood, but even _she_ deserved better than to be cut down in the very corridors where she'd reigned supreme. It just didn't sit well with him, somehow. So when he saw Bellatrix take aim at Hermione, Draco jostled his aunt's arm just enough so she avada'd a painting instead.

Livid in her disappointment, she yelled, "You made me miss the mudblood!"

"There'll be another time," Draco said, not knowing how true his words would be. "Come on…..we need to go."

The second time had been necessary.  
His deranged aunt was going to kill Hermione, and Draco knew Harry Potter would not survive without her. By this time, Draco knew the truth; he knew what the future would hold if the Dark Lord was victorious. Harry _had_ to win to save the Wizarding World. To do it, the boy-who-lived needed the witch who was currently writhing in a pool of her own blood. So when Draco summoned his former house elf to beg for his help, he was profoundly relieved when Dobby made a way for the trio to escape.

And the third time?  
Draco wasn't really sure why he'd felt compelled to save Hermione from the fiendfyre Crabbe had started. Only that she'd somehow become a beacon, a light; a symbol of all that was good and pure. Yes, _pure_.  
She was also a hope. A hope that he'd be able one day to be a part of that pure, shining world, where selfless, good people like Hermione lived.  
When she'd showed up at his trial to give testimony on his behalf, Draco found within himself a glimmer of that hope he had longed for. Maybe, his life could improve. Maybe he _could_ change.

He didn't know he already had.

Two weeks after his acquittal, Draco received a message delivered by a strange-looking owl. On the parchment was an invitation for lunch. Curiously, the directions given would take him to a muggle park. There was no name at the bottom of the scroll; only the letter _H_. The only two people he could think of with names starting with the letter H who would ask to meet with him in a muggle area were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. He desperately hoped it was the latter.

Draco's wish was granted. She was standing under a tree in the park, looking like an angel from heaven. Sunlight filtered through the branches, giving her a golden crown upon her curly, lustrous hair. In her hand was a little glass ball.

"Thank you for coming," she said softly.

"Of course," he murmured, still staring at the small orb she clutched. Was that what he thought it was?

Hermione smiled when she saw his attention staying on her hand. "Prophecies can only be taken from the Department of Mysteries by those whose prophecy it is." She held out the ball for him to take. "Listen to it."

Draco took the glass with shaking fingers. As soon as his hand touched the orb, clouds began to swirl inside it. Then he saw an image of a younger Ginny Weasley in her Hogwarts uniform. She began to speak in a voice unlike her own.

 _The Great House will fall  
_ _But not to ruin  
_ _Love will be his final Master  
_ _The Punishment will be the Shield  
_ _And under the Pureblood's name  
_ _The Well-born will abide in safety forever._

After the orb became silent again, he looked up to see Hermione's eyes glittering with some deep emotion.

"Well-born?" was the only thing Draco could think of to say.

She smiled. "My name, Hermione…..it means well-born."

The ramifications of the prophecy and what Hermione just said began to overwhelm him.

"Since our sixth year, I've known what you would be for me," she whispered. "What you would do….for me." Hermione then timidly closed the gap between them and putting her head on his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you for saving me," she mumbled into his shirt.

Draco immediately wrapped his strong arms around her sweet frame and held Hermione as tightly as he could. The feeling was incredible. Laying his head on top of hers, he could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. Coconut. Or was it almond? Whichever it was, the scent of it was intoxicating to his senses.

"Hermione?" he breathed. When she looked up at the sound of her name, Draco gently tilted her chin and tenderly captured her lips with his own. The kiss was perfection, just like he'd always known it would be.

Had always known…

Was that true? Had his soul always known what his mind and heart had had to learn?

Draco Malfoy didn't know.

* * *

 **AN:** Trink didn't know, either. I looked up Hermione's name to find out the meaning of it and saw two different meanings from multiple sources. One was messenger, the other was well-born. Since I'm not Greek, I couldn't confirm either and went with the one I liked best.


	4. Marked

**AN:** This started out angsty, but I decided I didn't want angst. I wanted fluff! So….you've been warned. If you get cavities from reading it, don't blame me. LOL

* * *

Chapter 4: Marked

The golden trio just happened to be out, meeting friends one Saturday night. They were celebrating Harry and Ginny's recent engagement. It had been fourteen months since the mother of all battles had taken place. During that time, the threesome had been alternately either praised as saviors ushering in a new era of peace for the wizarding world or as opportunists, cashing in on their success as Dark Lord Assassins. Hermione shook her head at the current headline on the front page of the Daily Prophet that had been left at their table. _Human nature was so fickle._

That night, while the boys hoisted their cups in cheer and in joking commiseration of Harry's upcoming marital ball and chains, Hermione looked around at the other patrons at the pub. Some witches….more wizards. Most drank alone.

 _Why?_ she wondered. _Why come out in the public's eye to drown one's troubles in a show of solitary sorrow?_ In her current state of mind, she didn't notice her unintended alliteration. She also couldn't think of a logical answer to her question before the double door of the pub opened and in stumbled a very inebriated wizard. A very familiar blonde one.

"Malfoy?" she gasped. Ron and Ginny, both sitting on either side of her, heard her whispered breath and looked over to view the unpleasant sight.

"Oh…my," Ginny said. "He's drunker than a giant."

"No…..I don't think even giants get that drunk," observed Ron.

Hermione said nothing, but her tender heart ached and bled for the wretched young man before her. His haughtiness gone, his sneering vanished, all that was left was a pitiful remorse that even when three sheets to the wind, showed in his pensive gray eyes.

His was the face of a man who didn't know how to forgive himself.

Stumbling further into the bar, he finally saw Harry's party.

"Po…Potter," he mumbled indistinctly as he dipped his head in respect.

"Malfoy….let me help you home," Harry kindly offered, but Draco didn't hear him. He was too busy staring at Hermione….or more specifically, the terrible slur visible on her exposed arm. The awful word _Mudblood_ taunted him in his current state.

"I'm sorry!" he suddenly whimpered as if in pain. "Her…her…Hermione," her name stumbled out of this mouth like a hiccup. "So….. _so_ sorry."

Not even Ron could gloat at such a sad display of the ruin of Draco's spirit.

For Hermione, it was the last straw. Her heart had been ringing warning bells every time she'd seen him at the Ministry. She'd sensed he wasn't healing from the war like the others. Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott…..even Pansy Parkinson had come around and had become friends with her and other members of the Order. But not Draco.

Taking matters into her own hands, she grabbed Draco before he could fall on his face….or more likely, his arse. Turning around, she said to those at the table, "I'll be seeing you later."

Harry stood up and asked, "What are you going to do with him?"

Hermione blew a lock of curly hair out of her eyes. "Something I should have already done."

* * *

When Draco woke up the next morning, his head felt like mountain trolls had been using it for batting practice. "Uhhhh," he moaned.

"Here…drink this," a nearby female voice said as a slender glass vial was pressed into his hand. Still unable to see anything but a fuzzy blur, Draco brought the cylinder up to his nose to smell it. He instantly recognized the familiar orangey aroma of a hangover neutralizer. Drinking greedily, he waited a moment, then opened his eyes. He now saw that sitting beside him on the unfamiliar bed was Hermione Granger.

 _Merlin,_ he thought. _Was she always this beautiful in the morning?_ Her dressing gown, a lovely rose colored silk, showcased her soft curves and matched the faint blush that was beginning to bloom on her cheeks.

"Better now?" she gently asked.

When was the last time anyone had bothered with him? His mother was dead. His father was rotting away in Azkaban. Draco had had no one to care for him since the war ended. Not even himself.

"Why?" was the first question he asked. "Why are you helping me?"

Hermione gave him an enigmatic smile and ran her fingers through the part of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. "Because you asked me to," she said simply.

"I did? When?"

"Last night."

"Granger…I was drunk last night…..you shouldn't take what I said seri…."

"That wasn't all you said."

That shut Draco up in a hurry. Had he spilled the beans? Circe, he hoped not. He'd meant his secret to stay just that. No one would ever believe he'd harbored a hopeless crush for Hermione since Yule Ball in their fourth year. If he'd been foolish enough to act on it when he'd become free to do so, people would have naturally assumed the worst. They would have thought he was only trying to ingratiate himself on account of Hermione's good name, now that his was mud. Thinking of that, he quickly asked, "How do you do it?"

"Sorry?" Hermione didn't understand his question.

Draco pointed to her arm. "How….you're able to just….put it out there. I…..I could never…"

"Sure you could. You have. You did it last night," she replied in a cheerful voice. Then Hermione giggled at his look of utter bewilderment. She decided to let him off the hook.

"Listen. I know what you said about being…."

"Drunk," he supplied.

"Elevated," she substituted. Draco rolled his eyes at Hermione's nicer word. Didn't matter. He had been hammered, and he knew it.

"Funny thing about being under the influence," she continued softly. In a bold move, she picked up his hand and began playing with his fingers. Draco gulped. He'd never felt anything as good as Hermione tracing patterns on his skin, and it terrified him. Had he said something? Had he _done_ something?

"Drinking doesn't _change_ who you are, you know," she commented. Looking into his eyes, Hermione said, "It merely _reveals_ who you are."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. Gulping again, he asked, "Reveals? You mean… _you know_?"

A beautiful blush crept over Hermione's cheeks again. "You told me of your…affections."

"Er….I did?"

She nodded. "You told me that you've loved me for years."

Draco didn't know how to reply. He didn't know the rules of this game of hearts. Oh heck…..who was he fooling? The game was over. The snitch had apparently already been caught.

"Of course, you know me," Hermione was continuing to talk. "I had to know for sure you meant it…so I gave you a few drops of Veritaserum….just to be sure."

"You did what? Wait, skip that for a moment. _How_ do you happen to have that substance? It's a Ministry controlled drug."

Hermione grinned. "What can I say? Sometimes it's good to be me."

Draco moaned. If she gave him that, then nothing was hidden anymore. Wanting to get his humiliation and rejection over in one blow, he said, "Well. Congratulations. So now you know. You can go ahead and laugh at me and tell all your friends so that the next time you catch me out drunk, you'll all have a reason to laugh even more at me. Poor lost DD."

"DD?"

"Drunk Draco."

Hermione chuckled at Draco's theatrics. She knew where it was coming from; his very real insecurity and self-loathing.

 _Time to start changing that,_ she decided.

"Ahem….as I was saying, while you were…..shall we say uninhibited?"

"Say whatever you like; but I think the better word is exploited," he fumed.

"That's funny; last night you called it destined."

Now it was Draco's turn to beautifully blush. "I called _what_ destined?" he ventured.

"Us," she purred.

Draco blanched. He tried to pull away from her, but Hermione kept moving closer and closer.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked, his voice as shrill as a scared first year student.

Her eyes never leaving his, Hermione pulled down the sheet that Draco was currently clutching to cover his chest. There, above his heart was an ancient tattoo. A marriage mark.

"Merlin's Beard! _We're married_?" he shouted in surprise.

"Well…..you did ask me."

"And you said yes? Are you _crazy_?"

Hermione continued to amaze him. Instead of being offended like most females would have been at his insensitive question, she laughed instead and said, "No, I'm not crazy. I'm in love."

Her confession made Draco feel like he'd been confunded. "Uh…..one more time please?"

Hermione giggled. "You asked that same question last night."

Draco pulled Hermione close to him. "But…. _why_? Why would someone as _wonderful_ …as good…..why would you even _stoop_ to…I mean, why would you even consider….." Poor Draco was having a hard time putting his thoughts into words.

"Mr. Malfoy, you'd better start paying attention to what your wife tells you," Hermione said as she began to pepper his face with soft kisses. "I love you. Always have. All during our Hogwarts years, I hated that I couldn't stop myself from caring for you, but there it is."

"But…how could you? I was so horrible…"

"That you were. But…I don't know. There was always something about you that was irresistible to me."

"And what would that be?" he asked shyly. Sweet Merlin, the desire of his life was embracing him and acting in every way like she meant every word that was coming out of her beautiful mouth.

"I saw…..potential. You know. What could be."

"Yes, yes, I know what potential means," he snipped playfully, making the woman of his dreams who was cradling his face laugh affectionately. Seeing her that way suddenly made a memory from last night flash in his mind. Then another took its place. Then another. Her helping him. His confession. Then hers. Their bonding. Their marking. Their, he gulped (had he ever gulped as much as he had this morning?) lovemaking.

Hermione watched as the different emotions flitted across Draco's face.

 _Some Slytherin you are, Husband,_ she thought. _Ha! I was right. I always knew I was. Draco never should have been put in that snake pit. No wonder he stayed in a perpetually bad mood. But where should he have been placed? Gryffindor? Hmm…..no, courage was never his strong suit. Ravenclaw? Maybe. Probably Hufflepuff. Better not mention that right now, though._

Coming back to the present, Hermione crawled up Draco's legs and straddled his lap. His arms automatically went around her tempting form.

Finally accepting his incredible luck, Draco kissed his goldmine of a wife. The kiss she gave him back took him to heaven. This was it. It was now official. Draco was either the luckiest bloke in the world, or he had died. Probably the latter.

 _Yep, that must be it. I must have fallen and hit my head on a barstool and that was the end of Draco Malfoy, the useless wonder._ How he ended up in muggle heaven with Hermione Granger as his angel, he had no clue, but who was he to question the workings of the Almighty?

Then Draco moved a little too quickly to suit his recovering equilibrium and felt again the pang of a headache.

 _Wait…..that's not right. Do spirits have headaches in Heaven?_

"Ughhhh," he groaned.

"What is it, Darling?"

Draco peeked out of his barely opened eyes. "A pain."

Hermione's face turned red, but it was the guilty look in her eyes that caught his attention and made him open his eyes again. Why would a pain of his make her look like _that_?

"Um…I was wondering when we should have that discussion."

"Huh?" Draco had no idea what Hermione was talking about.

Hermione waved her hand. "You did say you were hurting? I assume you meant this...I was covering it up until you got used to us….being us."

Then Draco looked down to where she was pointing. Hermione had released the concealment charm she'd been using on his dark mark. Or rather, his _former_ dark mark. Draco stared at the image now decorating his arm.

"Last night…after we were wed…..you said you would do _anything_ if you could change the past and have that thing off your arm. Well…..we both know that's impossible….but then I thought, that's where we were making a mistake. The secret of change is not in erasing the old, but in creating something new from it." Hermione nervously looked up into the gobsmacked face of her handsome husband. "I just happened to remember a muggle friend of mine who's an artist….her tattoo shop was not too far away from where we were last night. I just thought…."

All of a sudden, Draco started laughing. Real, belly-holding, side-splitting, tears running down one's face laughing. Only Hermione Granger….uh, _Malfoy_ , he mentally corrected himself, would have the unmitigated cheek to embellish the most feared and despised marking in the wizarding world. The deatheater skull had been given a sweep of longish brown hair; very metro and urban-looking. Dark aviator shades and a scruffy beard increased the cool vibe of Mr. Bones. The other circles underneath it had been transformed to shoulders and arms. But the cherry on the top was the hissing snake coming out of the skull's mouth; it had been transformed into a saxophone. Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing. In the place of the hated mark, he now had a colorful tattoo of a jazz musician playing his instrument.

"I love it," he said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. "And I love you."

Hermione gave him a relieved grin. "I'm glad."

"I hope so," he said as he kissed her again. When they finally came up for air, he finished, "Because your arm is next."


	5. Barbecue

**AN:** I was instant messaging Annamonk last night. We were talking about things in our past. I started thinking of my home state and the ache in me grew and grew. This little drabble is the result of that homesickness. The magic and pull of the place we call home never leaves us.

* * *

Chapter 5: Barbecue

Draco didn't know what to make of this as he looked around the swampy landscape. Moss hung down from knobby cypress trees, while hidden frogs and crickets conducted a competition to see which of them could make the most racket. Draco wiped his forehead with the napkin he held in his hand; had he ever sweated as much before? When Hermione asked him to accompany her to a family reunion, he assumed she meant her family in England. He didn't know the Grangers had relatives living in the United States…..the Deep South, to be exact. The Grangers (pronounced Gron-jay) of South Louisiana were a loving, crazy bunch of Cajuns. Draco never before imagined muggles using a witch's cauldron to prepare their food, although Hermione informed him they called it a fryer instead. Whatever it was, when Hermione's uncle lowered a raw turkey into it, the thing bubbled and smoked like Neville Longbottom's cauldron had in their long-ago potions class.

Even now, the shiny metal pot was hissing at anyone who walked by. Not too far away from it, another relative, a cousin if he remembered correctly, was checking on some dead animal that had been put in a dark, smoking coffin…. _thing_. The poor beast had been smoldering all night. In the back of his mind, Draco was tempted to think that perhaps muggles who lived in the midst of creepy bayous might still be primitive and below wizarding standards. He was considering it until Hermione popped a bit of the smoked meat into his mouth.

 _Merlin! What a taste!_ Draco's eyes rolled upward in bliss. He'd never before imagined eating meat that had such a complex flavoring of moist, tangy, sweet, smoky, and salty. It was divine.

"Oh Sweet Circe…tell me I can have some more of that," he groaned as he finally swallowed the morsel.

Hermione giggled. "I thought you would like that."

"What was it?"

"Barbecue."

Draco cocked his head, trying to understand the unfamiliar term.

"Bobby…. _coo_?"

Grinning, Hermione nodded. "Close enough."

"And…..they eat like this often?"

"Um….yeah. Fairly often."

Draco began to get excited. His mind was considering the possibilities. "Do you think your uncle would help us get one of those….ah…..coffin cookers?"

Hermione laughed again. "Well, he will if he knows what you're talking about. Tell him you want to purchase a charcoal grill smoker."

"Charcoal grill smoker…charcoal grill smoker….," Draco practiced under his breath. "Got it." Before he left to go find said uncle, he turned around to whisper, "You did say he knew about…..us. Right?"

"You mean our being magical?"

Draco nodded.

Hermione smiled. "Yes….he's the only one here who does."

Draco smiled back, relieved. "So…..he would be alright with me sending Mipsy and Dodgy over here? He could show them how to use the smoker, right?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Uh…well….."

Draco looked at Hermione with big puppy-dog eyes. He knew her weaknesses. "Please….love?"

Hermione huffed. "Honestly! You're just as bad as Ronald Weasley. Always thinking with your stomach."

"Granger, you wound me," Draco said as he lay his hand over his heart. "Can't a husband make a simple request of his beloved wife?"

Giving in, Hermione shook her head in fond amusement at Draco's childish display of joy when she said, "Oh…..alright. But let me talk to my uncle first. He's already a candidate for a heart attack eating like this. I don't want to have him keeling over when he sees our elves for the first time."

"Anyone who tussles with alligators for a living shouldn't be afraid of a little elf," Draco observed.

* * *

True to his word, Draco purchased a grill and sent over their elves to learn how to use it. Hermione's Uncle Boudreaux and his wife, Marie had been delighted to meet the magical creatures.

"Gardes don! And here I tought they would give me the frissons," Marie cooed. "Dey's cher!"

"Let's name em," Boudreaux suggested. So Mipsy and Dodgy became Clotile and Thibodeaux while they learned the secrets of Cajun grilling. So enamored were they with the two, Boudreaux and Marie even gave them the recipe for their family's secret spice rub.

Marie was misty-eyed when the elves went back to England.

"Do you tink we'll ever see dem again?" she asked her husband.

"I don't know," he said. "Mais I know dis…..dem creatures are sure cute."

* * *

It was all Hermione could do not to laugh at the scene before her. Her refined in-laws, the infinitely wealthy and aristocratic Malfoys were chowing down on their first taste of grilled meat like they'd been starving all their lives. Lucius had barbecue sauce smeared on both his cheeks, thanks to his gnawing on a particularly meaty rib. He was going after it like a dog with a bone. Hermione heard Draco cough down a queer little choke when he looked up and saw his mother acting similarly with a chicken leg.

"What have we unleashed?" he whispered to his wife.

Unknown to the both of them, Mipsy and Dodgy were watching the scene from behind the curtains.

"Missus' aunt and uncle were right," Dodgy said.

Mipsy agreed. "Yes…..theys said the spices would make them _Mange_."

"Like a gator, theys said," added Dodgy.

Tru 'dat.

* * *

 **Cajun French definitions**

Gardes Don: Look at that

Cher: Sweet, dear

Frissons: Chills, shiver

Mais: But

Mange: Eat

Boudreaux and Marie / Clotile and Thibodeaux are the familiar names in a multitude of Cajun Boudreaux jokes.


	6. It should have been me

Chapter 6: It Should Have Been Me

Draco was walking down the ministry's hallway one spring day when he heard a commotion. Suddenly, a door opened up and a herd of freckly redheads tumbled out of an office and into the corridor where Draco was standing.

"He said they were two minutes apart now," he overheard Ginny say to her brothers.

Draco watched as Harry Potter winced. "Is she…..is she cooperating? Did she take the potion?"

Ginny grinned. "Oh, yeah. Ron said after the first hour, she caved." Looking into her husband's eyes, she assured him. "Hermione's okay, Harry. She's going to be fine."

* * *

So. Granger was in labor. Draco knew she was due. The last time he'd seen her, she'd looked like she'd swallowed a melon whole. Draco flinched at the memory. He despised the thought of Hermione carrying Ron's child. He remembered when the two of them married. Draco had been under house arrest for a year after the war. Six months into his sentence, he'd been summoned to the ministry to meet with his probation officer and had run into the couple. They'd been outside the double doors of the Auror department, apparently having a row.

"Ron…..why the rush?" she asked.

"What's the matter, _Sweetheart_?" the redhead sneered back. "Waiting for a better offer?"

It was after that when Hermione turned her head and noticed they had an audience to their spat. Draco studied her face. To him, it didn't look like the face of a woman in love, but rather of a woman being pushed. A woman being pressed. A woman…..who was slowly losing her own identity.

Draco knew that feeling. The suffocation that came with the burden of another's willful expectation. His own father had dominated his choices. And now it looked like Weaselbee and his family were attempting the same thing with Granger.

 _Don't do it!_ he mentally whispered.

When Hermione had been tortured in his home, Draco had experienced an epiphany. This girl, the one who had been such a thorn in his flesh, was in every way his counterpart. He'd not realized it until he'd been forced to watch her writhe and shriek under his aunt's assault. The commitment and loyalty she showed for the people she loved was the same as his own. Both would do whatever it took to protect their loved ones. That day had been the beginning of Draco's revelation. It had grown when he saw her resistance to Ron's plan for an early marriage…..and it had died when she'd finally and wearily acquiesced to his demands.

Draco read of their wedding in the papers. He'd gazed at the pictures, full of smiling Weasleys but none of a happy bride. He knew her too well to be fooled by the calm demeanor the photographer had captured.

Coming back to the present, he watched as the Weasley parade left the ministry. Draco slowly followed them up the street to St. Mungo's. He stopped first at the little gift shop located on the first floor and purchased a dozen roses and a stuffed teddy bear to have them be delivered later to Hermione. Then he found which floor was the maternity ward and made his way up to the nursery. Looking through the heavy glass window, he glanced around to find the newest addition to the House of Weasley. There she was, a precious little bundle who thankfully, did not have the trademark red hair that usually accompanied her last name. Draco looked at the card at the foot of her crib. Cassiopeia Rose Weasley. _Cassiopeia_? They gave their daughter a constellation name? Draco would have bet his last knut that it had been Hermione's idea to give her daughter that distinction. Just like they would have if she had been _theirs_. Draco bit his lip in pain. That was what had brought him to this point. He knew deep down in his heart what should have been. He and Hermione belonged together. Like tea and crumpets….fish and chips…pumpkin pasties and butterbeer. She would _never_ match Ron, she would never fit him like she would have Draco. His heart beat painfully to the tune of that truth. This baby before him should have blonde wispy tendrils and grey eyes. Draco squeezed his own eyes shut as tears threatened to fall. Everything about this was wrong! He knew that on every level. Hermione should have been his wife, not Weasley's. That baby should have been his! That undeserving git stole his future...

 _...It should have been me! Not him...me. That baby should be a Malfoy...a Malfoy..._

* * *

"...Mr. Malfoy…..Mr. Malfoy. You need to wake up! I have your daughter for you," a cheery voice hovering over his head announced.

Draco looked around. Was he still at the hospital? It looked like it. A medi-witch stood beside his chair, holding a wee babe wrapped in a pink blanket. He was confused. Had the nurse said... _his daughter_?

"What is it, Darling? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Draco's eyes widened at the familiar sound. He knew that voice. Turning his head, he saw Hermione resting on a nearby bed with a beatific smile on her tired face. No calm acceptance this time, a real and honest smile graced her countenance. Draco looked from her to the nurse. Had all that before been just a dream? _It had felt so real_. Draco sat there gawking.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He didn't say a word when the nurse finally took matters into her own hands and deposited the newborn in his arms. Peeking over the swath of blankets, Draco saw the angel face of a baby girl…a baby girl with blonde curls and grey eyes... _his_ baby girl. Tears once again threatened to form, but this time Draco made no attempt to stop them.

Hermione watched Draco silently weep as he held their child. "Come here," she whispered as she patted a place beside her on the bed while moving over to give her husband room. "Isn't she beautiful?" she murmured, looking down at their daughter sleeping in her father's strong arms. Sighing contentedly, Hermione laid her head against Draco's shoulder.

"She's….. _ours_ ," Draco choked out while shining tears made paths down his cheeks. Each drop a silent prayer of gratitude that the nightmare he'd experienced had been only that. Unable to contain his joy, he leaned down to capture his wife's lips in a heartfelt kiss. "Thank you, Love…..for giving her to me."

Hermione's eyes twinkled as she giggled. "I seem to recall you helping a bit with her creation. So, thank _you._ You've made me the happiest woman in the world."

Draco sighed in blissful satisfaction. For a few moments, heavenly peace reigned. Then both heard voices coming from outside their room. Their door creaked open and Ginny and Harry Potter sauntered in, bearing gifts of a massive teddy bear, flowers and a bottle of wine.

"Mione!" Ginny squealed. "May I hold her?"

Draco chuckled when after a small nod from his wife, Ginny tenderly gathered the babe into her arms. "Ooo…..she's a beauty. What are you going to call her?"

"Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia Rose," Hermione answered. Draco couldn't stop the wide grin covering his face. _My baby!_ he crowed in secret delight.

"Open your eyes for your godmother, Cassiopeia," Ginny cooed at the sleeping babe. If she thought the name odd, she didn't mention it.

"Here, 'Mione," Harry said, giving his best friend the bouquet of flowers as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Harry…..you didn't have to do that," Hermione said.

"Oh yes, I did. It's not every day my sister has a baby," he replied. "And here…..we were told to bring you Mr. Bear."

" _Told_? It's not from you?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Um….no." Looking apologetically at Draco, he said, "Actually….it's from Ron."

Hermione's brows rose up at that answer. Eyeing her husband, she shrugged her shoulders as they both read the card that was attached to the ribbon around the stuffed animal's neck.

It read, "Congratulations Hermione. Love, Ron."

* * *

Later that evening, after the Potters had left, Draco magically enlarged the bed and climbed up in it to hold his wife.

"It was nice for Ron to send the bear," Hermione said as she softly ran her fingers through Draco's hair. "But I must say….I was surprised. " Looking at her husband, she bit her lip. "I had expected Ron to be upset. You know, we didn't end well."

"It feels weird that he was the one who gave Cassie her first toy," Draco admitted.

"Oh? Why?" asked Hermione.

Draco smiled in secret relief that Fate had seen fit to turn the tables in real life. "Oh, well...I guess it should have been me."

* * *

 **AN:** I had a former boyfriend who sent me flowers after the birth of my first child, a girl. I was afraid my husband would be upset, but all he did was shrug his shoulders and say, "Well...your old beau saved me the bother, didn't he? Just one less thing I have to do!"  
My husband...Mr. Romance. LOL

My updates may be rather sporadic for the rest of the year. Good-byes and hellos are being made to members of my family. Bittersweet times. Thanks to all my FF friends for your lovely reviews and PMs and thank you especially to the sister of my heart, Annamonk. You are one of the kindest, most loving souls on the planet and one of the best writers here, too.


	7. Sympathy

Content Warning: Mutilation of a corpse. If that's a trigger for you, skip the second paragraph.

* * *

Chapter 7: Sympathy

The first time, it was for him. You saw him, just like you thought you would, among a group of somber-clad wizards giving him cold comfort. Your heart inexplicably ached for Draco as you watched him in that moment; the stony group surrounding him were ill-equipped to give support; snide asides seemed more their specialty. You noticed the smug smirks that covered their faces when the upturned earth was lifted to cover both his parents' graves.

You'd seen the headlines; you had also heard the rumors the paper didn't print. How Lucius Malfoy, maddened by his pride, killed his own wife when he'd discovered she was the reason the Dark Lord had been defeated. Her lie, the one that had allowed Harry Potter to live, had driven her husband to the point of no return. Once Yaxley had told Lucius of her betrayal to the cause, he'd grabbed Draco's mother from the scene of battle and apparated back to Wiltshire with her in tow. There, underneath the chestnut tree where Draco had played as a lad, Lucius had ended his wife's life with an Avada to her temple. Thankfully, he had done that first, as his wrath was apparently not satisfied with so simple a death. He drew a blade from his boot to finish off his anger. The first thing to go would be her lips; Lucius was determined they should feel the pain of lying to their Master. Her tongue soon followed. Then next to go was the hand that had felt for life in the body of Harry Potter. On and on he went, cutting off any member that had been a part of her deception. Once his rage was spent, Lucius sat down among the ruined remains of what had once been his wife. It was then when his rational mind made a comeback. Crying in horror, he saw what he had done; despair became his new master. With no thought to what he was leaving for his son to find, he took his wand and Avada'd himself as the last act of a cruelly selfish man.

Shuddering at that memory, your thoughts shift back to Draco as you watch him. You sadly realize the rumors were true. His normally proud shoulders are bent with the weight of his silent grief. Seeing his pain makes the strength of your anger rise for his sake. Little wonder he was always so petulant and hateful in school; you now ponder how he managed to maintain any semblance of normalcy with a father like that. Still, you know how the love for one's parents runs deep. As much as he must hate what his father did, you instinctively feel he mourns for his passing, too, while feeling revulsion at himself for feeling it. It is a double-edged sword that is impaling the heart of the heir of the Ancient House of Malfoy. You wait underneath a neighboring tree until the group of purebloods leave. After the last one, Theo Nott, moves away, you hesitantly walk up to your former nemesis. He has yet to acknowledge your presence. You think he hasn't heard you, so you start in surprise when he turns to look at you with pain-filled eyes.

His normal sneer is absent; he looks a shell of his former self. Summoning all your Gryffindor courage, you take one of his hands in both of yours and say, "Draco….I'm truly sorry for your loss."

He would look at you in astonishment if he could summon up the energy to do so. Instead, his bottom lip trembles, and he squeezes your hands as if they were a lifeline. " _Hermione_ ," is all he can utter before you act. You instinctively release his hand to hug him instead. He's stiff in your arms at first; then he crumbles as he sobs on your shoulder. You rub his back while he cries and wonder if this was the first display of affection he's been given. That thought makes you hug him harder, longer. When he finally releases you, you give him a parting gift of goodwill; you transfigure a clump of earth near the gravesite into a wreath of roses to rest above the ground where his mother is buried. Once again, his lip trembles with emotion. Before you leave, you rise on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek. He looks at you in awe; you think it's possibly the first time he's ever _really seen_ you. It is a look you'll never forget. But you doubt you'll ever see it again.

Your doubts turn out to be false. You do see that look again and under similar circumstances. When your parents return home from Australia in body bags instead of stepping from an airplane, you learn racial hatred against muggles is not just an internal problem with wizarding Britain. You weep with the pain of guilt in not realizing that truth until it was too late; in not doing more to ensure your family's safety.

Harry and Ron try to give you comfort, but they can't relate. Neither can understand the torment of having made a hard sacrifice that ended up being for naught. There is nothing they can say that gives you a sense of true empathy from them. You look around at the group assembled at your parents' funeral; you know your friends love you, but somehow, it's not enough. You can't put a name to your need until you see him standing beneath a nearby elm tree. His blonde hair looks tousled by the blustery wind; his robes whip around him. He knows when you've seen him; you both make eye contact. For a moment, nothing else exists but the two of you; then you see him begin to walk to you in long purposeful strides. He acts like he doesn't notice the stares he's receiving from being there, but you know better. You know he's acutely aware of the notice of others; it's his gift to you that he will not be deterred by it.

When he finally reaches you, he pauses and releases a sigh before he wraps you in his arms. You cling to him, greedily taking what you'd been waiting for subconsciously. The gasps and murmurs around the two of you mean nothing to either of you as you cry on his shoulder.

" _Draco,"_ is your mourning chant. Again and again you say it as you purge your soul of its pain. With each breath of his name, he pulls you closer and closer to his body until it is hard to determine where one of you ends and the other begins. Just as your weeping is ending, he tilts your face up and gazes at you. In that moment, you're not concerned with your red and puffy eyes; you don't mind that your face matches them. All you care about is the look of total sympathy you see in his eyes. His hand cradles your face; his thumb tenderly traces your cheekbone before he leans his head down to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss," he whispers in your ear. Those familiar words, spoken so sincerely, melts something in you. You look at him in speechless wonder, now understanding what had caused the same reaction from him. Choking down a gasp that's a result of this discovery, you blink back tears threatening to return and instead thank him by giving him a kiss.

A real kiss.

He startles against you for a moment; then he returns it with a passion that surprises you. You both recognize the truth of this moment; this season of sorrow will be remembered by the two of you as the pivotal season of change….of healing. Of becoming.

When the kiss you share is over, you realize how quiet it's become; that's when you both comprehend the shock you've given your fellow mourners.

For once, you don't care. And apparently, neither does he.

* * *

 **AN:** My bitter came before my sweet. But the sweet is coming.


	8. Bippity-Boppity-Boo

**AN:** This little drabble is for my dear friend, Annamonk. She's been a little under the weather, so I hope this will cheer her up. It's something soft, sweet and should go down easily. Love you, Sis.

* * *

Chapter 8: Bippity-Boppity-Boo

"Hermione? What is this?" Draco called out from inside the lounge. In his hand was a DVD of the old Disney Classic, _Cinderella_.

"What?" she yelled back from her kitchen. Walking back into the living room of her flat, she saw the quizzical look on Draco's face as he held up the square package.

"Oh…that. It's a moving muggle picture," she explained.

Frowning, Draco looked up at her. "But….I thought we had to go the movie district to see those. I…don't understand."

Hermione smiled at her handsome boyfriend. She had taken Draco to the cinema to see _Lord of the Rings – Fellowship of the Ring_ ; he had been in such awe of the big screen and of the movie itself, it had taken him several weeks to quit talking about it.

"One doesn't have to see a movie in the theater; one can also watch a movie on a DVD player." Taking the disc from his hand, she said, "My parents gave me a DVD set of the old Disney classics. I watched this animated film when I was a little girl."

Draco grinned. "It's that old, huh?"

"Oh, shush it," Hermione grinned back. "Want to watch it with me now?"

Draco nodded. He could smell the delicious odor of Hermione's roast cooking in her oven, so he said, "As long as the movie's over by dinner. I don't want to take a chance of my favorite meal overcooking."

Hermione laughed. "Well, the beauty of watching a movie at home is being able to stop it whenever one wants. But let's not get into all that," she quickly added when she saw the questions beginning to form on Draco's expressive face. "Let's pop it in."

Soon the couple was cozying up on the couch while watching the film. It didn't take long for Draco to ask, "Was Disney a wizard? I swear that name sounded familiar when you said it earlier and right now, I can't help but see a remarkable resemblance of the stepmother to Posy Parkinson. And Drizella is a dead ringer for Pansy, don't you think?"

Hermione snorted as she laughed, which made Draco laugh, too. "Not to mention the fairy godmother looks alot like Professor Sprout."

"Now that you bring it up, I see it," agreed Draco. "She did pick a pumpkin to transfigure into a carriage. Awfully suspicious, if you ask me. But Hermione…..that incantation? You _know_ that song was no spell."

Then Draco began to sing in a hilarious falsetto voice:

 _Salagadoola  
_ _mechicka boola  
_ _bibbidi-bobbidi-boo  
_ _It'll do magic believe it or not  
_ _bippity-boppity-boo_

"No, it will _not_ ," he argued.

"Well, let's not talk about that now," begged Hermione as she was wiping the tears from her face from laughing so hard at Draco's mocking rendition of the fairy godmother's song. "My favorite part is coming up."

Draco sat down once again to watch the children's fantasy with Hermione. Putting his arm around her, he smiled as she laid her head against his chest. Stroking her soft luxurious curls, he watched as a transformed Cinderella and Prince danced and fell in love all within the space of an evening. He gave a soft inaudible sigh at the ease of their attraction. There were no years of bullying, no war…..no regrets that would cause them agony later. He knew Hermione had forgiven him for how he'd behaved, how he'd been as an arrogant and ignorant young wizard, but still…..sometimes the ache wouldn't leave. Had she really, truly forgotten what he'd been? Had she left it in the past? Draco looked down at his arm where the hateful tattoo was covered by his sleeve. He didn't think he could. Then, as his thoughts began to be chased by his familiar demons of shame and guilt, the words of the song the couple on screen were singing broke through to his mind.

 _So this is love, Mmmmmm  
_ _So this is love  
_ _So this is what makes life divine  
_ _I'm all aglow, Mmmmmm  
_ _And now I know  
_ _The key to all heaven is mine_

Draco swallowed hard to fight the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. It was as if his heart had found a voice of its own and started singing the little song along with the characters. Draco loved Hermione. He'd loved her for some time now. Did she love him? It was hard for him to know. He sighed again. He guessed there was only one way to find out for sure. He was tired of carrying around that little velvet box in his trouser pockets.

"Why do you like the romantic part best, Love?" he suddenly asked Hermione. She looked up at him in surprise as a beautiful blush began to steal its way across her cheeks. She looked down in embarrassment, but Draco was a man on a mission and would not let her escape his gaze. He gently lifted her chin up and asked with obvious adoration and love swirling in his grey eyes, "Shall I show you why?"

Watching him wonderingly as he stood up, Hermione paused for a moment before she took Draco's proffered hand. He kissed her brow and wrapped his arm around her waist as he gently led her in a slow dance around her living room. Drawing her even closer to him, he tightened his hold as he began to croon one of the songs from the movie.

 _A dream is a wish your heart makes  
_ _When you're fast asleep  
_ _In dreams you will lose your heartache  
_ _Whatever you wish for you keep_

 _You wake with the morning sunlight  
_ _To find fortune that is smiling on you  
_ _Don't let your heart be filled with sorrow  
_ _For all you know tomorrow_

 _The dream that you wish will come true_

Hermione had not realized she'd started crying at Draco's earnest singing. He was gazing into her eyes, and the serious look on his face was assuring her he meant every word he was saying. Then he stopped and said, "I know what I wish to keep."

Hermione's breath caught with his next words. "Hermione….I want to wake up each morning, not to see fortune smiling on me….but to see your face next to mine." He took a deep breath and pulled the little box out of his pocket. Opening it up, he held the antique diamond ring out for Hermione to see. Hearing her gasp, he bent down before her on one knee and asked, "You're the only dream I have, Love. You're the only thing I wish for…..so…," He looked up into her shining, honeyed eyes, "Will you have me?"

Nodding her head as her tears made little rivulets down her cheeks, Hermione laughed and cried as she answered, "Yes."

Draco's smile covered his face as he placed the ring on Hermione's finger, and once again began to dance slowly with her.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered in his ear.

Joy the like he'd never known coursed through Draco. Taking Hermione's face in his hands, he stopped in his movement to give her a deeply tender kiss.

So caught up in their bliss, the happy couple did not realize _they_ were now the ones being watched. Hermione and Draco had forgotten all about the movie still playing and did not see it when the characters suddenly began to move closer to the edge of the television screen.

"Oh, brave boy! He finally drummed up the nerve to do it!" clapped Cinderella. Beside her, the Prince nodded, pleased to see another happy ending.

"So plebeian. He wasn't raised that way, I'm sure. It must be the _company_ he's chosen to keep. I'm glad his mother didn't have to witness that," sniffed Lady Tremaine in derision. The haughty matron turned to see a figure walking up to her. "Wouldn't you agree with me, Mr. Disney?" she asked.

The smiling man gently shook his head and confessed, "I think it's sweet."

"Well, I thought syrup was going to start pouring from his ears, he's such a sap," giggled Drizella to her sister.

Jaq and Gus asked the fairy godmother, "What do you think?"

She harrumphed and said, "I think he does a poor imitation of my singing…..that's what I think."

The magical characters laughed with her at that. Then a grin began to bloom on the elder fairy's kind face as she looked at Draco's and Hermione's obvious happiness. "But he _did_ sing the spell, didn't he?" she commented to the crowd around her. Then she murmured to herself, "See? It _can_ do magic….believe it or not."

Bippity-Boppity-Boo.


	9. Hope

Chapter 9: Hope

The truth had always been a secret. It had always been well-guarded, both by the positions they had chosen to adopt and by, curiously enough, the prevailing romance novels of this world. Many thought they knew the reason for the Malfoy's silvery blonde hair and their charismatic appeal. Veela similarities had always given them an easy out. Draco had smiled when silly women plied Lucius with questions as to the rumors concerning their lineage. He laughed when these same witches demanded he show them his wings.

If those women only knew.

Draco rubbed his face wearily as he stood near the railing at the top of the astronomy tower. It was easily his favorite spot at Hogwarts. It gave him comfort to see the swirling clouds above him and feel the wind constantly whip through his hair. He had come up there that day to get himself under control. He had not meant to react that way in their potions class. He should have known better than to stay when he saw the glimmering substance shining in the cauldron. Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that smells differently to each person, according to what attracts them. He snorted. He didn't need his nose to tell him what his mind and heart already knew. The innocent whiff of vanilla mixed with the gentlest fragrance of Marvel-of-Peru, the four o'clock flowers that smelled like his true love. He remembered the flower from his long ago visit to South America. He wondered why he'd been so attracted to the subtle fragrance of that unassuming plant. But now he knew why. Because one day _she_ would smell like that flower. And vanilla? He supposed it was why he'd always loved vanilla tea cakes. Why he'd always ordered vanilla ice cream at Fortescue's, even when teased by his friends for being unadventurous in his flavor selections. He would always grin at them, then promptly ignore their jests. Why change a reminder of your heart's desire?

Why indeed. Except it was wrong to begin with. He shouldn't have this desire. He _couldn't._ It was not allowed. And that was what tormented him.

He stayed for a few minutes more, trying to quiet his mind so he could continue his mission. But just before he turned to leave the tower, the door to the stairway opened. Entering his quiet place was the reason for his unrest. The wind caused Hermione Granger's wild curls to dance about her head. Draco thought it was the most beautiful halo he had ever seen. He noticed when she became aware of his presence; she paused, then straightened her shoulders and came out to where he was standing.

"Malfoy," Hermione nodded, acknowledging his presence.

He said nothing at first, torn between his impulse to be candid and his duty to remain hidden. He was amazed at the strength of the struggle within him. But he craved honesty too much. For once, Draco let down his walls.

"Hello, Hermione," he said softly.

Warm brown eyes looked up into his silvery grey ones. Draco loved looking into her eyes. Warmth, intelligence and kindness flowed from their depths. He now understood why so many songs had been written about a woman's eyes. He felt like he was drowning.

"I saw what happened earlier in class, you know," she said as she gazed at his face. "And I heard the comments. But I don't understand."

Draco felt a gush of madness flow through him. Or was it passion? Whatever it was, he acted on it. He placed his hand over the one of hers that was resting on top of the railing. It was cold. He could remedy that. He curled it into his and entwined their fingers together. Hermione gasped, but Draco noted she didn't pull away.

"I'm tired of pretending," he confessed in a low voice. He watched as she gulped; then he ventured to ask, "Aren't you tired as well?"

"I…..I don't know what you mean," she stammered.

"Oh…..I think you do. I think you've known for a while. Or at least guessed."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How do you….."

Draco chuckled. "You leave behind too much evidence. I've seen the books you've read from the restricted section."

Hermione looked embarrassed. "You don't know what I was doing….I might have been studying to help Harry with…."

"Oh, come now," interrupted Draco. "Harry's fight is with the Dark. You've been studying Light Magic. Spiritual Spells."

Hermione dropped her gaze to the stone floor. "It's just that…you're so…so…."

Draco decided to stop her stuttering. "Hermione…..look at me."

She did as she was told. Then she gasped in wonder. There before her stood Draco, but _not_ Draco.

"Oh….my," she breathed. "It's true! You're a…a..an.."

"Angel," he supplied. "It's okay to say it."

Hermione swallowed hard at the sight before her. Draco and his father has always had a silvery glow about their person. More than just their hair, even their skin seemed luminescent with a pearl sheen. But now…it was if he had caught fire from inside and shone with the glory of it. And his wings! His wingspan would probably spread out at least four meters. Hermione ached to touch them.

Draco must have known what she was thinking when he said, "You can if you want to."

Hermione reached out with a trembling hand to smooth over the velvety soft feathers. Draco sucked in his breath at the delightful feelings her timid touch produced.

Still holding her one hand, he brought it up to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles. Hermione instantly felt a jolt of power surge throughout her body.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Because of you," he responded. "I was entrusted with your care."

"But…..you've been a child! I watched you grow up!"

"I was assigned to you long before you started Hogwarts, Hermione. I had to give the appearance of belonging in this dimension to be able to remain."

She sighed at that admission. It did not escape Draco's notice that she didn't seem too surprised. "And your father? Who I suppose is _not_ actually your father. Oh...and what about Mrs. Malfoy? Is she an angel, too?"

Draco gave Hermione an indulgent grin. "As always, you are both beautiful and correct. Yes, there are many of us here. Actually, you would be surprised at the number of angels assigned to this place and moment in time. It has always been this way for events and people who change the course of the world. As for Lucius and Narcissa, they are my compatriots. We've always worked well together, so we're often assigned nearby cases."

Hermione could not contain her thirst for information. "Who are their cases?"

Draco smiled at the dear girl in front of him. "Can't you guess? Ronald Weasley for Lucius. And for Narcissa? Harry Potter."

She sputtered. "Then why are you involved with Voldemort? Why are you a death eater? And don't pretend you're not."

He shook his head. "We maintain an illusion because we have roles to play. But it is only a ruse." He gave Hermione a cheeky wink. "Even muggle humans know you should _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_." Then he sobered, warmed by her concerned face. "I appreciate your worry, but there's no need. We know what we're doing. We've been doing it for millennia."

Hermione's face dropped when she was reminded of Draco's eternal nature. "Yes...yes, of course. And you're here...to be my guardian angel."

Draco nodded. "You can call it that, although that's not quite the sum of it. There are those whose function is purely protection. Narcissa is an example of that. But Lucius and I are a hybrid. We are the Warrior Guards. We both fight and protect."

"And you're telling me all this now because…"

Draco's wings dropped a bit. "Because I'm sure I'll soon be reassigned."

"Why?"

"It hurts me to say it," he whispered as he let go of her hand, only to cradle her face with both of his. "But we are not permitted to form bonds with our wards…as I have surely formed one with you." Draco looked down at Hermione's lovely face staring at him with awe and wistful longing. Seeing that, he did what he'd never done before. He disobeyed a rule. Draco tilted Hermione's face up and captured her lips with his. Suddenly his being was filled with a longing and light of which he'd never known. Without his being aware of it, his wings began to flutter. When he felt Hermione's arms wind around his neck, he moaned and deepened the kiss. Draco had never felt such overwhelming rapture.

"My pure, little dove…" he murmured in adoration. " _Amabo vos in aeternum_."

"Draco," she whispered against his soft lips. "Tell me I'm not dreaming."

"If I am dreaming, let me never awake. If I am awake, let me never sleep," he quoted. Hermione hummed against his lips in agreement.

Ending the kiss was the hardest thing Draco had ever done. Reluctantly pulling away, he said, "Now I see why attachments are not allowed. One would never think of anything else."

Hermione gave him a look of pure joy. "Draco…..um…..is that your _real_ name?"

Kissing her forehead, he nodded. "Oddly enough, it is. Many of us took on the human names of the constellations we helped form."

That tidbit of information momentarily boggled Hermione's mind. She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts. "Right, then….well, let's talk about _that_ later. But circling back to what you said about not being allowed to form a bond...are you _sure_? I mean, I'm certainly not trying to imply I'm the last word when it comes to the commands of the Almighty, but I don't believe God would keep any of his creation lonely and longing for something they couldn't have."

"Please. Don't tempt me any more than I already am. My kind were given power. Perhaps that was supposed to be enough. Maybe we weren't meant to receive anything else."

"Oh, what utter nonsense," Hermione huffed. "If you can _feel_ it, you were meant for it."

Draco seemed unsure.

"God _is_ Love, Draco," Hermione's voice was soft and tender. "It would be against his nature to deprive any his creation of what He is."

Draco shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable with thinking outside his 'angel' box. "But it has always been spoken; always passed down the ranks that relations with humans are forbidden."

"Oh yeah? Says who?"

That gave Draco pause. "I…." he looked at Hermione with a gobsmacked expression. "I do not know." His eyes began to take on a glow when presented with a legitimate question.

Hermione drew his body closer to hers. "Sometimes what is customary can become what is expected. But that doesn't mean it's always right." She looked up at the handsome face above her. "Let's just have faith that loving is _never_ wrong."

Draco looked down at the witch wrapped in his strong arms. Arms that had fought in many a battle over the eons of time but had never before until that day experienced a lover's embrace. Because of the girl in his arms, he could now understand so much of what he'd only been a witness to before.

Hermione had asked him to have faith. He could, because he now knew love.

And for the first time in his long, eternal existence, he felt hope.

* * *

 **AN:** Three things will last forever - faith, hope, and love - and the greatest of these is love. This drabble is my nod to one of my all-time favorite movies, the old black and white holiday classic, _The Bishop's Wife_. Cary Grant was the angel in that movie who fell in love with a human woman. He had to leave her (she was already married anyway...hence the movie title) so I wanted a happier ending for our angel in this story.

But Cary Grant. An Angel. Oh Lawdy.

Can my guardian angel look like him? LOL

Note – _Amabo vos in aeternum_ is supposed to mean _I will love you forever_ in Latin. I suppose if anyone could truthfully promise that, it would be an immortal being.


	10. For Auld Lang Syne

Chapter 11: For Auld Lang Syne

Hermione was wringing her hands in nervousness. This meeting would be unpredictable. It had the potential to go south in a hurry, but on the other hand, it might go well. Maybe. She looked down at her wristwatch. He should be arriving soon. Harry said he would make sure there would be no last-minute hitches; his magi-visa would still be good. But that didn't mean someone wouldn't throw a wrench in the process; after all, he had made quite a few enemies before he left.

Five more minutes. Hermione could feel her back begin to break out in a cold sweat. Where was Harry? Had he been delayed? She began pacing in front of the fireplace. The floor was covered with a patterned carpet usually seen in hotel lobbies. A tan background with geometric black rectangles and pine green circles of various sizes all within borders of thick crimson stripes. Garish thing, really.

One more minute. Hermione decided she might need to go to the Ministry when the fireplace lit up with green flames. After the soot settled, out stepped two male figures. The first one was Harry, his dark Auror robes draped over one arm. In contrast, the man following him was wearing a pair of faded coral-colored jeans matched with a light blue tee shirt, white hoodie and trainers. Hermione blinked in surprise. It would appear his time spent in the States had significantly changed Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Hermione kept taking peeks of Draco as the three of them walked to the complex where the meeting was to be held. She had made sure to cast a warming charm on him as Draco was not dressed to battle the frigid London air. He was walking with a freedom she'd never seen from him before. And he was talking to Harry in quite a casual, friendly manner. And….what was that? Did he just laugh? Hermione shook her head in wonder. She had never seen a genuine smile on Draco's face before. She stayed in a state of bemusement until they came to the entrance to the apartments. Looking at Draco's expectant face, she stammered, "If you'll follow me…..I'll take you up to her flat."

Before Draco followed her into the building, he stopped to shake Harry's hand and thank him. Hermione dropped her jaw in astonishment, but remembered to close her mouth before Draco could see her.

"It looks like California suited you, Ma…Mal…uh….Draco," she stuttered.

"Yes….it took a few months for me to get used to muggles and wizards living together like they do there, but once I acclimated to it…actually, it was hard to leave. I especially enjoyed the weather there." He pretended to shiver and said, "English winters…..brrrr."

Hermione smiled at his words. "So I take it…your feelings have changed? And I'm not talking about our climate."

Draco stopped in front of the lift. "Hermione," he said seriously. "My feelings changed before I went abroad."

"Oh?" It had not hit her yet that he'd called her by her given name.

He nodded. "They were forever altered….that night at the manor."

Hermione's face turned pale. She looked down at her feet. "Ah. I see." Quickly giving herself something to do, she pushed the up button and said, "She's on the 14th floor."

Draco watched Hermione carefully. Of all the people he had bullied in the past, her face was the one that popped up the most in his mind. "I'm so sorry," he suddenly blurted out.

She looked over at his face. "What?"

Draco looked steadily into her eyes. "I was cruel to you. I was wrong…..about everything."

Hermione's eyes widened at that frank admission but nodded her head. "I…..appreciate that."

Draco nodded back and then looked forward at the elevator doors. Soon the lift dinged, announcing their arrival to the desired floor. They stepped out into a carpeted hallway. The rugs covering the floor were of much better quality than the cheaply made carpet at the floo rendezvous point, Hermione absently noticed. When they reached the correct flat number, Hermione paused before she punched the ringer. She turned to look at Draco; he appeared nervous but determined.

"Alright then?" she asked.

Once again, he nodded. "Go for it," he said.

Hermione smiled at his American expression and rang the bell. Soon the sound of footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door. Then it opened to reveal Draco's mother; but not as he remembered her. While her son had been sent to the US to learn tolerance of muggles, Narcissa's sentence, while similar, allowed her to stay in England. Muggle England, to be exact. Both had been given a six month sentence to live among muggles. The Wizengamot had been lenient with the two of them due to Harry Potter's impassioned appeal.

Draco looked at his mother standing before him. Gone was her trademark long blonde hair. In its place, she sported a short, textured pixie cut that brought out her expressive eyes and made her look incredibly like Sharon Stone, thought Hermione. No longer in robes or long sweeping gowns he remembered as a boy, Narcissa was now wearing a fetching pair of plaid lounge pants with a jumper to match.

"Well," she said as she took in Draco's equally changed appearance. "We both have a lot to catch up on, it would seem." Then with a mother's zeal she reached for her son and pulled his head down to give him a kiss on the cheek and a big hug. Draco immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"I missed you Mum," he whispered into her ear. Narcissa hugged Draco even tighter after that. "I missed you, too, my little dragon," she confessed.

Hermione internally breathed a sigh of relief. She had not known how Draco would react to seeing his mother so "muggly" but after seeing his changed appearance and now watching him, she knew there was nothing to worry over.

* * *

As the afternoon wore on, both mother and son became more and more comfortable with the changes they saw in the other. Hermione couldn't help but notice their tender touches of affection; their smiles and the sparkle that seemed to glimmer from their eyes when they'd mention a memory or long-forgotten family joke. It hurt her to realize the Malfoys would be forever changed by the loss of Draco's father; but maybe they could go forward and have something deeper. Certainly something _better_. She had taken their tea cups back to Narcissa's kitchen before she left to go back to her flat when Draco came into the room.

"Thank you for staying," he said.

Hermione nodded. "Of course. But….it was my job to…."

"I know," he said. "To make sure I behaved."

Hermione blushed. "I was hopeful you would. It's just the ministry felt…"

Draco put his hand over hers. "I know."

Hermione gulped. She hadn't expected the touches and affection she'd seen Draco and Narcissa share with each other to extend to her.

"Stay?" Draco whispered. "Mother says this flat will have a marvelous view of the fireworks set to go off tonight. Help us ring in the New Year?"

Hermione looked into Draco's eyes. Blue. Blue eyes with flashes of silver.

"For old times' sake? For auld lang syne?"

Hermione laughed at Draco. "Old times sake? That's not a very good arguing point, you know. We hated each other."

Draco gave a small sigh. "I didn't mean that. I meant our positions. You were first in our year. I was second." He looked down at her, a tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. "I would be happy to continue that with you…..if you would allow it."

"I don't think I follow what you…."

"One thing I learned from my muggle computer studies was the nature of a binary," he interrupted. "1 and 2 need each other to be whole…..," Draco trailed off and gave Hermione a significant look.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she realized what he was saying.

"Stay. And let's see if the muggles are right," he said.

Just then, Narcissa called out from the next room and said, "Draco? Hermione? Do you still want to go to that pub? We can be back in plenty of time for the fireworks.

"Shall we?" asked Draco as he held out his hand.

Hermione looked down at his hand, then looked up at him. "I suppose I can do that," she said as she took his hand. " _If_ you will put on some appropriate clothing first, Surfer Dude."

Draco laughed and nodded. "Old time's sake, indeed. You're just as bossy as ever."

* * *

 **AN:** Happy New Year to everyone! This drabble was the result of me looking for a new hair style for this year and seeing a picture of Sharon Stone with a pixie cut….that led me to think, "What would Narcissa look like if she cut her hair like that? And why would she do it to begin with?" So there you go... my mind works in weird ways. As for Draco's clothing in this chapter, they were inspired by a photo I saw of Tom Felton, who played Draco in the movies, wearing coral/pinkish colored jeans. So I had to add that to the story!

For those of you who don't know, I've started a new story entitled _Starlight_. It will be different from any other story I've written thus far. Very mature themes. Not a fluff bunny will be found in it. But it will have love. And betrayal. And devotion. It deals with the sobering reality of mental illness. But oops, I don't want to say too much! Check it out and let me know what you think.


	11. Dancer – Part I

**AN:** Sorry, I know it's been a while since I posted a new chapter for this story. I've been hard at work on _Starlight_ and a new story for Valentine's Day, _SEERiously._ If you like drama, check out the former; if comedy's more your thing, check out the latter.  
This chapter is one I've had for a while; I've tinkered with it, wondering if it belongs in this collection or if it would do better as a one-shot. Dracolicious won. I hope you like it. Inspiration for it came from the dance stories of the often imitated but never duplicated writing genius, Annamonk.  
Lucius' comments were unfortunately inspired by the hate I heard as a child growing up in the Deep South during the turbulent 60's. I am so thankful my home life was free from the vitriol prevalent in society during that dark time. My parents were more Arthur and Molly than Lucius and Narcissa...and I thank God for that.

* * *

Chapter 11: Dancer – Part I

"I was sick of it, okay? It was _all night_ , Draco. All. Night. Long. I don't know who it was, _but I will find out._ And when I do…!" Pansy Parkinson yelled, too upset to be concerned that there were students nearby. Draco flushed, angry and embarrassed.

"Would you _shut up_?" he hissed between clenched teeth.

"I'll do better than that. I'll leave!" Pansy flounced off to leave Draco standing all alone in the middle of the lane that ran through the village of Hogsmeade.

"Girl problems, Malfoy?"

Draco looked over to see Ron Weasley sitting on a bench outside of The Three Broomsticks, grinning in delight at his discomfiture. "What's the matter, Daddy couldn't set you up with the right witch?"

Nearby, some of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor wizards laughed along with the red head.

Ron had unknowingly hit the bullseye. Draco couldn't go to his father for help with this. After all, there were some things his father didn't _need_ to hear about.

* * *

Draco hadn't been expecting much in the way of excitement for Hogwarts' first Harvest Moon Festival. After all, Harvest Festivals had, at one time, been an annual tradition for his family. The Malfoys, titled landowners, had in the past hosted suppers for the tenant farmers gathering in the crops. Although he'd been barely older than a tot, Draco remembered a couple of the harvest suppers his grandfather had hosted. At those feasts, Malfoy Manor had been home to massive platters of food, barrels of oaken mead and pretty lasses from the nearby village who would come to perform the traditional harvest dance, not knowing they were entertaining wizards. But the tradition became out-of-fashion during his primary years when his father had been in charge and with the return of Voldemort, it had stopped all together.

Draco remembered the last harvest supper they had given; one girl in particular had caught his eye. He'd been about nine years old. That girl had had been one of the dancers scheduled for that evening. Dressed in her Sunday best, she'd twirled and skipped in front of him. Her hair had been a mane of riotous curls, each one bouncing merrily with every hop she took. Her eyes had been a cornflower blue, her cheeks a garnet red. Draco had thought he'd never seen beauty before as he watched the muggle girl step in time with the music.

When he'd found out a few years later she'd been a victim of a revel, he'd locked himself up in his bathroom and vomited. Then he cried. His mother had come to check on him. Draco had hastily charmed his face to hide any evidence of his grief, but he suspected she'd known what he'd been doing. She never told his father, but she watched her son from then on. One day, to Draco's complete surprise, Narcissa had said to him when Lucius was out of the house, "Protect your feelings, Little Dragon. They are your truest guide. If you don't betray them, they won't lead you astray."

But of course, Draco had. He'd ignored and betrayed his feelings time and time again. Until last night at the dance, when he'd done a double-take at the figure dancing with Harry Potter. His heart froze inside of him; at first, he thought it was the ghost of the girl who had danced so merrily inside the manor walls on that long ago Harvest Moon. Long lustrous curls bobbed and took on a life of their own as their owner moved across the floor on Harry's arm. Draco was shocked when he realized it was Granger…..then it hit him. Why had he never seen the similarities before? He'd always thought of Hermione as a bothersome bug, an irritating mosquito that needed to be squashed out of existence. A parasite, just itching for the purity of his blood. His father had warned him. Muggles were thieves, the whole lot of them. They were beneath Wizardkind. And they knew it. That's why they were trying to infiltrate the wizarding world. They wanted to bring down wizards to their level. Lucius said their scheme was to beguile wizards. To intermarry; to sully magical purity.

"Muggles want to even the playing field. A world of half-bloods would achieve this," his father had said again and again.  
Draco remembered his father always ending his lectures with, "Don't trust them. They're not like us. They don't have your power, because they don't have your purity. If we don't watch our backs, they'll steal everything we hold dear. _They must be stopped_."

But now as Draco watched Hermione laugh and dance, he saw in her the same light and joy he remembered in the dancer girl of his childhood. The rosy blush blooming on Granger's cheeks matched the color of the red cherries garnishing the desserts that had been offered after the meal. Hermione was not an enemy intent on deception; she was a young woman enjoying her life.

"Who is it?" said a whiny voice next to Draco. "You keep staring at someone else when you should be paying attention to _me_."

 _Ugh_ , Draco thought to himself. _Pansy._

He had momentarily forgotten her presence next to him. The perpetual pebble in his shoe, Draco would admit, if only to himself, that Pansy was the insufferable know-it-all of the school, not Granger. Pansy made it her business to know everyone's weakness, everyone's secret, everyone's past. She was the ultimate triple threat. The ultimate darkness. In comparison, the witch dancing in front of him was _good_. Loving, forgiving….the epitome of light magic. Draco knew then and there that his father's prejudices were wrong. His mother had been right. His feelings, his emotions were telling him Granger was _pure_. Because, in the end, it wasn't blood that determined a person's purity; it was their magic. Unlike the obnoxious witch standing beside him, Hermione's magic was clean. A deep aching need rose up in Draco. He felt like a man dying of thirst who had been chained from reaching the glass of water before him.

* * *

Draco sighed; last night's memory was making it hard for him to concentrate. He couldn't even think of a comeback to Weasley's remark. Ron watched curiously as the blonde wizard made no retort but started his way down the sidewalk. Draco strolled along, oblivious to his surroundings until he came to a small store. The sign outside it said _Ye Olde Curio Shoppe_. He opened the door and made his way to the back of the shop. He knew most students would be in Zonko's or The Three Broomsticks; Draco thought it would be a good place to brood and hide until he could walk back to Hogwarts in peace. But when he turned the corner to the next aisle, he came upon the reason for his distress. Hermione was standing there, holding two objects in her hands. It looked like she was comparing one to the other. When she heard footsteps, she looked up to see Draco staring at her with an expression she'd never before seen on his face.

Putting the objects down, she reached for the wand in her pocket while warily asking, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco swallowed. He'd never spoken pleasantly to Granger. He knew his next words were crucial to any possible future with her.

"Your forgiveness," he said in a low, trembling voice.

Hermione looked surprised. Then she looked suspicious. Finally she hissed, "Is this a joke? Or a dare? Because if you think you can waltz in here after all you've done and sa….."

Draco stopped Hermione in mid-rant by softly putting his hand over his mouth. She was just about to rip his hand off her face when he leaned over and said, "It's no joke. I promise. Please, Hermione….I beg you."

"Why should I forgive you?"

Draco was lost. He couldn't think of a reason why she should. Desperate, because he couldn't foresee when he'd have another chance like this, he bent his head down and captured her lips with his own. She gasped at his unexpected boldness and at first stiffened, as if she suspected a trap. But Draco must have been successful in transferring his sincerity in that kiss, because it was only a moment later when Hermione began to timidly kiss him back. It was all Draco could do not to moan into that kiss; still, he managed to wrap his arms around her. He felt it when she finally relaxed into his embrace, and his heart soared when Hermione's arms came up to wrap themselves uncertainly against his neck.

"Is that the standard Slytherin MO for apologizing?" she asked with a shy smile when they finally came up for air.

"MO?"

Hermione grinned, "Modus Operandi...you know...method."

Draco placed his forehead against hers. "No….I don't know. It's mine."

Hermione pulled back. "Just how many times have you employed that technique, Malfoy? And don't lie, I've heard about your reputation. Slytherin Sex God and all that."

Draco groaned. Blast Pansy and all her gossipy friends.

"My reputation was fabricated by witches who had nothing better to do than to embellish their own imaginations."

Hermione's eyebrows rose up, questioning the validity of that claim. "Uh-huh. Sure they weren't being honest?"

Draco looked into Hermione's cinnamon eyes and was captured by the honesty there. "On my wand, I promise I've not been with any witch in that way."

Hermione's eyes widened. A wand oath was powerful. To speak falsely against a core magic was fatal.

"Well...I'm confused…..what's changed your mind? You've always hated me, ever since we first met each other….and now, you…don't?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't."

Hermione had her mouth open, ready to ask another question, when she and Draco heard voices. A nasally, female voice filled the air.

"Crap…..it's Daphne," Draco said. "And Pansy is probably with her."

"If they see us…it'll be over the whole school," Hermione groaned. Looking around hurriedly for any possible escape routes, Hermione said after she saw one, "Come with me…quickly!"

Draco found himself being guided over to a door in the side of the wall.

"Alohomora," Hermione whispered while pointing her wand at the lock hanging outside the door.

The door creaked open to show a storeroom, full of dusty knick-knacks. Draco didn't have time to wonder what was happening; Hermione shoved him first into the storeroom then followed him in, spelling the door to lock behind her. It was nearly pitch black inside the space.

"We'll just wait until they leave," Hermione whispered as she unconsciously reached for Draco's hand.

He gulped as he felt the softness of her skin against his. His breath caught when he felt Hermione's body press back into his chest. Slowly, he lifted his free arm to wrap around her waist. Hopefully, Daphne and her crew would take their time shopping.

 ****to be continued****


	12. Dancer - Part II

**AN:** I'll go ahead and apologize for the length of this chapter. It far exceeded a drabble, but honestly, this little story took on a life of its own. It grabbed my imagination and wouldn't let go! I hope you enjoy it in spite of its size.

* * *

Chapter 12: Dancer, Part II

Looking back, Daphne and Pansy's unexpected visit to the quaint old store had been the best thing to convince Hermione of Draco's sincerity in his apologies. Under the guise of looking at the merchandise, the two girls talked in furious whispers while Draco and Hermione listened.

"Daph, I was so mad, I wanted to hex him," Pansy seethed. "How dare he ignore me like I was some Hufflepuff half-blood!"

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. "Sounds like normal Draco to me. He's always been that way. He's a _Malfoy_."

Pansy shook her head. "No….that's not what it was. I'm used to that. But last night…he was _different_. He wasn't being obnoxious….he was distracted. Someone caught his attention. Whoever it was, he couldn't or wouldn't take his eyes off her."

"Maybe it wasn't what you think. Maybe he was spying for his father….goodness knows Hogwarts is overrun with Order brats and mudbloods, thanks to our good-for-nothing headmaster.

Pansy wasn't convinced. "No, I would have been able to tell if that was it. It was definitely a female that had his eye. He looked completely bewitched."

Daphne's brow lifted. "Oh? How do you mean?"

Pansy's face became blotchy with anger. "Like he had found Circe herself….or the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow…"

"Uh-oh….that's not good."

Pansy could no longer hold it in. "That's how he's supposed to look at me! He's promised…. _to me_!"

Daphne winced at the volume of Pansy's screeching. "Would you control yourself? Screaming doesn't help anything!" Pushing back her thick golden hair from her shoulders, Daphne couldn't help but add, "And you can't call yourself truly promised until the contracts are signed. That hasn't been done yet."

Pansy stuck out her lip in a nasty pout. "Technicalities. I'll make sure it happens...and I'll take care of this problem, too. Once I find out who it was….even Snape won't be able to cure them of all the warts I'll give 'em."

Daphne chuckled. "That makes me feel kinda feel sorry for the witch, since I've seen what that curse of yours does. Even Hagrid wouldn't touch her after that. Draco certainly won't."

Pansy lifted her pug nose in proud satisfaction. "Draco's _mine._ He just needs to be reminded of that fact."

The two girls giggled together as they continued to plot the humiliation of Draco's little fantasy, little knowing he and said fantasy had heard their every word before the two witches walked out the door.

"You really meant it, didn't you?" Hermione whispered in wonder after they'd left. "All the things you said to me. Your apology...and the kiss..." Even in near darkness, Draco could see the rosy blush covering her cheeks.

"I told you I was sincere," he softly whispered against her ear as he turned her around to face him. "You just didn't want to believe it."

"I….I was scared to," she admitted as she bit her lip.

"I don't want you to be scared of me," Draco tenderly said before he lowered his head and once again captured her lips with his. This time, Draco didn't hold back. He put all his feelings into that kiss; his regrets, his fears and his hopes for a possible new beginning with the girl in his arms. Hermione finally broke away, gasping for breath.

"You sure you're not just trying to get me hexed with warts?" she said chuckling.

Draco grinned as he traced her swollen lips with his finger. He was proud that he'd been the one to put them in that condition. "I promise. Now, can I see you again?"

Hermione paused. "That may be problematic. If your house was to find out…or your father…."

"Or your friends," he sighed, agreeing. "But I want to try this….whatever this is…with you."

Hermione laid her head against his chest. "Agreed….but how?" She closed her eyes in delight as Draco's hands rubbed circles against her back.

"We could meet in secret, you know. It's nobody's business what we do, anyway."

Hermione snorted. "When did that ever stop Harry or Ron? They're worse than nifflers in sniffing things out. Especially when it comes to all things Malfoy." Running her fingers over his shoulders, she said, "I hate the thought of skulking around….but it _would_ make things easier."

"Certainly less potential for pain," Draco smirked, thinking of Pansy's threat and the reaction of Hermione's friends to their relationship.

Hermione laughed. "Well, I'm game if you are. Now we just need to figure out where we can meet."

oOo

* * *

For the next several months, Draco and Hermione kept their relationship under wraps. They would vary their meeting location, so as not to establish any sort of pattern for their nosy friends to find. One time it would be the Shrieking Shack; another time would be the Forbidden Forest; still another time would find them in the Room of Requirement. They would always meet at odd hours; often they would sneak out in the dead of night to meet. That they were both prefects made it easier; also helpful was that when in the presence of others, they kept up their old ways of acting toward the other. Even so, there were times when neither could resist the temptation to speak to the other in double entendres.

"What's that horrible smell?" Draco asked one day in Charms class when he, Crabbe and Daphne had found seats in front of Harry, Hermione and Ron.

"I don't smell nuthin'," said Crabbe.

"Are you sure? It smells like something from a bog," Draco said as he turned around, smirking. "Or maybe it's just mud I'm smelling."

Daphne laughed out loud. Harry and Ron looked like they were about to jump out of their chairs to throttle him.

"Shut up, Malfoy," hissed Ron. "The only thing you're smelling is the rot coming from your brains."

"Don't talk to Draco that way, blood-traitor," Daphne sneered, immediately losing her smile.

"Can you call off your dog, Malfoy?" Harry retaliated on Ron's behalf. Daphne gasped. Ron laughed. Crabbe's mouth was too stuffed with the muffins he'd hidden in his robe to be able to enter into the conversation, if one could call spewing insults back and forth such a benign term.

"Honestly boys, why are you wasting your breath? Malfoy just likes to hear himself talk," Hermione airily said. She secretly laughed to herself. Just that morning, right before dawn, Draco had held her in his arms while telling her how wonderful she always smelled. Like a freshly baked sugar cake.

"Is that the best you've got, Granger?" Draco said, his eyes glittering with some deep emotion. "I expected more than that."

"Watch out, Malfoy. You're up against a big girl now," said Hermione. It was all she could do not to laugh at the sudden darkening of his eyes. "I know you. You're not happy unless you're running your mouth. Talk, talk, talk. That's all you ever do."

"You sure you want to see me in action, Granger?" he said, satisfied that his words caused the girl before him to blush furiously. "Don't know if you could handle it."

"Try it and see," she retorted.

"Just name the time and place, witch," he said. Draco was having a hard time not taking her into his arms and kissing that smug grin off her face. She knew what she was doing, the little minx!

"Come on, 'Mione. Just leave it. Like you said, he's just a talker," said Harry as he placed his hand over hers. Draco stared down at their joined hands. He suddenly turned around to face the front of the class. It was either that or rip St. Potter's arm off his body.

oOo

* * *

Two nights later found Draco with Hermione in the Room of Requirement. He was lying on a cushy sofa the room had produced and she was lying beside him, her arm draped across his chest.

"You thought you were being a clever little thing in Charms class the other day, didn't you?" he asked while lazily playing with her curls. "Convinced now?"

Hermione grinned against his chest, her eyes shut in contented satisfaction. "You sure showed me. Consider me properly convinced. You are definitely more than a talker."

Draco laughed at that and gathered her more tightly into his arms. "I love you, darling girl."

"Mmm…I love you, too."

oOo

* * *

Hermione paced the floor of the Shrieking Shack. It had been four nights since she and Draco had last been able to be together and he was already an hour late.

 _It's not like him to make me wait like this,_ she thought nervously. Had something happened to him? Had someone found out about _them_? Hermione's thoughts swirled in anxious circles, an ever-growing and tightening maelstrom in her mind. She was just about ready to leave to go in search of him when she heard a sound coming from the tunnel underneath the house. The trapped door opened; Draco came inside and immediately took her into his arms.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when she felt him trembling. At first he said nothing; he just pulled her tighter into his body.

"Draco?"

He still made no sound, but Hermione could sense his anguish.

"Draco, you're scaring me…..what is it?"

In answer to her question, he slowly pulled something out of his pocket. "I received this message from my father after dinner. He….he…"

Not waiting for him to finish, Hermione grabbed the parchment and began to read it. "Oh…no. _Draco_ …."

"You don't have to say it. I've known it was coming." Letting go of Hermione, Draco began to tread back and forth on the threadbare carpet. "I don't know what to do…. I've walked the grounds for hours…I can't think of any way to escape this…."

Hermione watched her secret love as he paced before her. Lucius Malfoy had insisted his son come home for the Easter Holidays. He'd hinted that a great honor awaited him. There was no doubt in either of their minds that this 'honor' entailed being branded with the mark of the Dark Lord.

"Can you just…. _not go_?" Hermione asked weakly, her heart too broken to think rationally. Draco looked at her with an incredulous expression.

"How does that solve anything? At best, it would just delay things. _And_ give Voldemort a reason to be sadistic. I don't need to give him an excuse to hurt my parents….especially my mother." His eyes filling with unshed tears, he confessed, "That's what hurts me the most. The thought of what will happen to her if I refuse this. My mum's innocent, Hermione. I have to protect her."

Hermione sat there, desperately trying to be objective so she could think more clearly. "You fear what would happen if you refuse to take the mark. Tell me about it, then. Is it just a tattoo? Or is it something more?"

Draco quit his pacing and dropped down beside her on the rug. "It's more. It's a bond. It connects the follower to the Dark Lord. That's how he senses them….knows where they are….what they're thinking. Bleeding slavery, that's what it is."

Hermione absorbed that information. "Is it a blood bond?"

"You mean like a blood covenant? No. But it's the next thing to it."

"But the point is, his is _not_ the strongest bond." Hermione began to talk excitedly. "There _is_ something greater…something _mightier_ than his mark."

"Well, yeah. But I don't see how that will…" Draco paused, his eyes getting a glazed look. "Ah...I see where you're going with this. You're implying that if I were already bonded into a blood covenant, I would be protected…"

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. The greater the bond, the greater the hold. You wouldn't have to _refuse_ the mark, because no matter how many times they tried to brand you, the weaker bond would not be able to take. And he couldn't blame you or your parents for his mark not working, because he wouldn't _know_ why it didn't. "

Draco looked puzzled. "You lost me there. How would he not know?"

Hermione grinned. "Because a covenant doesn't leave a mark. He would have no clue you ever entered into one."

Draco's eyes took on a shine. "And knowing his ego, he'd probably think my inability to receive his mark was some sort of sign."

"You could always play it up as that. Being too young, or not clever or capable enough, or worthy enough..."

"Hey! Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, of course," said Hermione. "But who cares what he thinks as long as it keeps you and your mother safe?"

"True. Well, that means the only thing left is to find someone who would covenant with me. Would…...would you?"

"Of course, you silly man. I do happen to love you, you know."

Draco smiled, his face lit up with hope. "What would I do without you?"

Hermione chuckled as she gave him a kiss. "Have more freak outs, that's for certain. Now, try not to worry. This will work. You'll be fine. We just need to find out how to perform a magical covenant and do it before you go home."

Hermione rued her words the next day after she and Draco had looked up how to perform the rite.

"I…I don't know what to say," Draco said miserably. "I can't believe this."

"This is just as bad as making a horcrux," Hermione said, dismayed and shocked. " _Human sacrifice?_ What kind of monster does that?"

Draco gave his girlfriend a look.

"Uh...other than Voldemort, I mean," she hastily added.

"Guess that explains why this book was in the restricted section."

Hermione shuffled once more through the pages. "I wonder…what about an animal sacrifice? Would that be enough?"

"Not according to that book. Not enough to trump Voldemort's bond."

Hermione let out a very un-lady like expletive. "I can't accept this! There's got to be something we can do that's not darker than the kind of magic you're trying to avoid."

"There isn't. The only way out is murder. Ironic, when you think about my future." Draco said bitterly. "Let's see…do I kill now or kill later as a bloody Death Eater? What wonderful choices lay before me."

Hermione stared dismally at the hand-written tome. _The shedding of innocent blood safeguards the participant(s). Without this sacrifice, there is no covering or binding._ She sighed. "Well, at least this explains Harry's protection. His mum willingly gave her life for him."

Draco looked at Hermione. "I couldn't let anyone die for my well-being."

"You could let me," a voice beside them said.

Draco and Hermione startled in fright when a comely girl materialized before them. Draco gasped. It was the merry dancer girl from the Harvest Moon festival of years gone by.

" _You!_ How can this be?" he asked.

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how to explain that. I never studied magic."

"Who are you? _What_ are you?" asked Hermione. "Are you a ghost?"

The girl took in Hermione's appearance and smiled. "Not exactly. I'm a spirit. We're not quite the same thing. We muggles aren't given the option of returning in ghost form."

"Then why are you here, now?" This question came from Draco.

"To meet your need. You need a sacrifice to seal a covenant. I'm offering my blood for that."

"Er….not to be indelicate….but how can you give what you no longer have? Uh…since you're dead and all," Hermione pointed out.

The girl laughed. "Well spotted. But an exception was made on my behalf."

Looking at the lovers in front of her, the little girl explained. "You weren't the only one noticing people that night, little blonde boy. I watched you, too. I saw you were different than the others around you. There was a light in your eyes that was absent in theirs. I didn't know then what you were. I found out the night I died that you were a wizard like the monsters who killed me."

She stopped for a moment. Frowning, she said, "I don't like to recall that evening. But right before I died, I asked that I would be given a chance to help you somehow. I didn't want you to turn out like them."

She looked steadily into Draco's grey eyes. "You've got to understand. I didn't want my death to be a meaningless one."

Draco swallowed loudly. "So, all this time… you've been waiting to come back?"

Shaking her head, the spirit before him said, "No. It's not like that. Things are different _there_. There is no concept of time...of waiting. Everything is _now_. All I know is, I was told my plea had been heard and I ended up here. I heard what you and your lady friend were discussing and then I knew why I had been sent."

Well. Draco and Hermione didn't know how to argue with a story like that.

Hermione murmured, "When you put it that way…."

The dancer girl laughed again. "I hoped you'd see it my way. Now, I won't be allowed to stay long. The ritual must be completed tonight." She then reddened as much as a bloodless entity could. "And just so you know….tonight, when you enact the covenant, I will appear as I was the night I was murdered."

Seeing Draco and Hermione's horrified expressions, she quickly assured them, "Don't worry….I won't be able to feel the wounds again. I am _dead_ , after all. But you should be prepared. I won't be a pretty sight."

oOo

* * *

Later on that evening, when the rest of Hogwarts was asleep, Draco and Hermione flew their way over to the Quidditch pitch on Draco's broom. It was a mild spring night, the full moon shining brightly on the new grass. Waiting for them there was the spirit.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked the couple.

Draco looked at Hermione and nodded. "We've memorized our parts and the steps."

"Well, let's get started then. I'll just go lie over there," she said, pointing to a patch of grass in the middle of the glade.

Once she was situated, her appearance transformed to that of the victim she'd been at the revel. Hermione shuddered and hastily looked away after one glance. The little girl had been right; she was not a pretty sight. Draco fought not to retch. It was harder for him than it had been for Hermione to see the girl; for all he knew, his father could have been the one who'd wreaked the damage showing on her delicate frame. Her face was bloodied and bruised; her neck purple from being strangled; and worst of all, a dagger was sticking out from her abdomen. Who knew what other hidden torments she'd suffered that night?

The girl must have felt Draco's distress, for she lifted a broken hand to touch him and softly said, "It doesn't hurt anymore. Let it go."

Draco nodded and tried his best not to look down at her bloodied corpse. Instead, he and Hermione joined hands beside the spirit's body as she once again invoked what had been her final request:

"Please look upon the suffering of thine handmaid, and remember me, and grant me this one boon; that thou wilt give me this man child to save; so he shall be able to love, preserve and serve the one who is helper to him who shall free his people from the evil to come. And with the saving of this life may my life be raised to merit and my death to honor."

When she was done, Draco and Hermione spoke the vows of commitment memorized from the covenant; while they did this, the dancer girl looked on. She knew they didn't know the pledge they were speaking was an eternal one; they didn't know they were binding themselves to each other with cords mightier than the created worlds. She chuckled to herself. They didn't know it _yet_. But soon….soon they would. And with that knowledge would come a power that would be key to freeing their world of the darkness threatening to destroy it. Once again, the young spirit smiled. She had chosen well. Her death now had purpose.

When it came time for Draco and Hermione to move, they turned in measured steps in cadence with the rhythm of their oaths; each footfall patterned after the Great Dance of the cosmos. Gliding along in tandem, they made a complete orbit around their sacrificial lamb.

Soon, the rite was completed. Draco took one look at Hermione and hugged her. "I love you. You've saved me from a lifetime of hell."

Kissing his cheek she said, "Not me, love. Your little friend did that."

Draco looked back at the dancer girl and said softly, "I never knew your name...but thank you. I am forever in your debt." He watched as the spirit gave him a nod of understanding. "Carina," she said. "And I know how you can repay me."

Hermione watched with a full heart as the spirit once again donned her Sunday best, and for one last time, danced merrily under the light of a full moon with Draco as her partner.


	13. Advances

Chapter 13: Advances

* * *

000

"Well, that's just fabulous," Draco Malfoy growled. "Two weeks of reconnaissance, and for what?"

"Just what are you fussing about now?" asked Hermione Granger as she walked into Draco's office to put several thick folders on his pristine desk.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger? Did I give you permission to trash my desk?"

Hermione pursed her lips. Even though Draco might have changed from his Hogwarts days and become one of the best Aurors England had ever seen, he still could occasionally lapse into whining when he didn't get his way about something. "Oh, sorry. So silly of me to think you might want the latest information on your suspects."

"What else is there to know? Except where they might have scampered off to." Draco fumed as he looked wearily at the papers within each folder. "We almost had them, you know. We'd staked out the area they were in; knew the movements of every muggle living around them. Discovered every potential hideout. Every tree, every bush, every blinking flower had been accounted for. We even knew the topography of the land."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. "Using big Muggle words now, are we?"

"Shut it," was his clever reply.

"But if I _'shut it'_ as you so graciously put it, I can't tell you the latest intel on the gang's current whereabouts."

"You _know_ where they are? Then why the ruddy hell have you not said that already?" he bellowed.

"Well, if you would ever read the memos I send you, you'd already know, you overgrown git!"

The peevishness in Draco's eyes gave way to something inscrutable. "My apologies," he muttered as he reached for the file on top. Glancing down the first page, he scanned its contents. "So….they thought they would be safe and hidden in Bern, did they?" he mused to himself.

When he rose up from his chair, Hermione asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'll have to ask Perkins to fire-call the Swiss Ministry. Those renegades just made this an international affair. We'll have to send a team to coordinate with their intelligence agency."

"Why?" she asked.

He looked at her dumbly. "Why? Did you seriously just ask me that question? Our suspects are hiding out in a Muggle location within a foreign country. We know nothing about that area. I'll have to form a team and go with them to set up surveillance; we'll need to learn the streets, the buildings, you name it."

Hermione grinned. "If I could show you a quicker way to scope out the city, would you allow it?"

Draco eyed her suspiciously. "Are you talking about muggle maps again?"

"Something better. I promise." Tugging on his hand, Hermione managed to pull Draco out of his office and down the hallway. When they got to the entrance to the Auror's headquarters, she told the receptionist sitting there, "Gladys, I'll have Auror Malfoy back soon. We're working on a case."

"Yes, Miss," the older lady demurred, but she could not stop a mischievous twinkle from entering her eyes. Miss Granger was a rising attorney within the Ministry and Mr. Malfoy was one of the star Aurors. Rumor had often paired those two in the past, but only Gladys knew the secret torch Draco carried for the witch. Giving him a devilish wink and thumbs up, she could barely wait for them to floo out of the building before she started the latest offering of tasty gossip for the Ministry grapevine to savor and embellish.

"You know Gladys will have us married with a child on the way before we can make it back to the office," said Draco as he wiped the soot from his robes after he'd flooed into what looked like an apartment. "Where are we?"

Hermione shook the ash from her hair. "My flat."

He looked around, surprised. "Really?" Hermione had always maintained a no-nonsense, logical persona. At school, in war, and in her position as a trial lawyer. Simple colors and clean lines seemed as much a part of her as her infamous curly hair. Draco was taken aback to find out her decorating tastes were so….. _girly_.

"You like…..pink?" he asked, picking up a frilly throw pillow.

Hermione blushed. "Go ahead and tease me. I know you're dying to do it."

"No….not at all." Draco was secretly pleased with the display of crocheted lace and chintz cabbage roses covering her sofa. He could never tell Hermione it resembled his daydreams of the home he wanted with her. "It's rather cozy….and homey. I like it."

Hermione hummed in contemplation, not knowing if Draco had been sincere in his compliment or if he'd been slyly making fun of her taste. "Well, if you're through assessing my decorating abilities, come with me to my study. I want to show you something."

He gave her a quizzical expression but obediently followed her into the next room. Sitting down at the massive desk that took up most of the space in the study, Hermione turned on her computer. Draco sat down in the chair she'd pulled up beside her and watched as the rectangular screen came to life.

"Oh blast," he said when he saw the familiar red, blue, green and yellow boxes appear on the screen. "This isn't that same Microsoft thing I was forced to sit through in Muggle Studies, is it? I don't have time for that, Granger."

"You are so impatient," she huffed. "Will you pipe down and let me show you something?"

Draco frowned at Hermione but stayed quiet as she double-clicked on a circular icon.

"This is Google Earth," she explained as an image of the earth in space filled the screen.

Draco's eyes grew round as he looked at the monitor. "Google world looks a lot like ours," he commented without any intention of being sarcastic. Ever since he'd found out Muggles had traveled in space, his ideas of where they'd gone and what they'd accomplished knew no bounds. It hadn't helped when a couple of years ago Harry and Ron had taken him to see a Star Trek _and_ Star Wars movie.

Hermione snickered. She was tempted to lead him on a bit but refrained. "No….this is our world. Now let me show you how you can pinpoint different locations within an area without ever leaving your home."

In the search box, she typed in Bern, Switzerland. Then she clicked on the search button beside it. All of a sudden, the image on the screen began to move. After reaching Switzerland, the view dropped lower and lower to the ground. Draco watched, gobsmacked, as the indistinct greens and blues became lakes and forests. He saw when streets began to appear.

"This is incredible," he murmured.

"Just like magic, huh?" Hermione grinned while good-naturedly elbowing him. Looking at her, he just nodded.

"Now watch this," she said as she used her mouse to grab a little gold-looking man on the side of the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, if you really want to study an area, you need to get down to street view level." She placed the little man down on one of the streets. Now the picture displayed raced further down, then righted itself. Draco gasped when he saw the image on the screen. It was as if he was there on the street himself.

"Look….when I scroll my mouse, I can go up the street or back," Hermione was showing him as he watched with rapt attention. "And hey….we're in luck. See that date? It's saying these images were taken recently."

After she exited the street view, he sat back and said, "That's unbelievable. I had no idea this kind of resource was even available. Makes what we do look archaic."

Hermione's face darkened at that word. "And you can thank our Wizengamot for keeping us that way."

That got Draco's attention. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Those old codgers wouldn't know progress if it sat on their heads. They're hiding behind the excuse it would undermine the international statute of secrecy if we dabbled too much in what they call "modern Muggle advances" but I say what would it matter? It's not like we're hidden from Muggles anymore."

Draco's left eyebrow rose. "Of course, we're hidden, Hermione. You know that."

"Oh really? Well, let me show you something." Hermione said. Pulling Google Earth back up from its minimized position on her computer, she asked, "Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire, correct?"

He looked at her funnily. "You know it is….why do you ask?"

"Just west of Stonehenge," she said more to herself than Draco.

"Granger….. what is this about?"

'Watch," was all she said. So Draco did.

He watched as she typed in the little search box, _Stonehenge, Amesbury, United Kingdom_. As before, the screen swirled away, leaving the image of Switzerland in its haste to fly to England.

He watched as she rolled her scroll thingy to bring the picture down closer to earth.

He watched as she moved the screen with her mouse until he saw something that made his heart race.

"That…..That's not possible….," he gasped. "Our wards cover the entire grounds…..this can't be!"

"What can't be, Draco?" Hermione asked softly, although she already knew what he would say.

" _This_!" he yelled as he pointed a shaking finger at the screen that was currently displaying an aerial image of Malfoy Manor, its gardens and the ancient grove beside it . "Muggles shouldn't be able to see my home!"

Hermione gave him a sad smile. "Muggles can't; but a satellite can."

That answer flummoxed Draco. "What?"

Hermione sighed. "Draco…..the wizarding world has become antiquated. When we decided to vanish all evidence of our existence back in 1692, we did it as a safeguard. Muggles of that age were primitive; barbaric. They feared magic and wanted all who possessed it dead. Hiding became a necessity. But in all the years after then, we never entertained the notion that muggles might change. We never dreamed of the scientific and technological advances they would one day achieve." Placing her hand on Draco's arm, she said, "Now, we have become the ones blinded by fear and arrogance. We never even considered that their evolution might one day make our safeguards obsolete."

Draco swallowed loudly as he looked again at the Manor, displayed in all its enormity for anyone to see. "I don't know what to say," he said.

Hermione patted his arm where she was still holding it. "I didn't show you this to make you worry. We're no longer in any danger, you know. Honestly, most muggles would be thrilled to know true magic exists."

"Really? Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course. That, or either they wouldn't care. I mean," she said as she motioned with her hand to the screen in front of them, "When you already have magic like this, why would other kinds bother you?"

In spite of his shock, the corners of Draco's mouth twitched upward. He had suddenly thought of certain correlations to this discovery that he could use to his advantage. "Good point. I feel better already."

"Happy to hear it."

Draco's smirk became even wider when he said, "Now tell me, _Miss Progress_ ….do you practice what you preach?"

Hermione's head cocked to the side in confusion. "Come again?"

He wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "What would you say if I were to tell you your defenses were no longer necessary? That you no longer needed to hide? Would you allow me to show you all the wonderful magic we could make together?"

" _Honestly!_ " Hermione snorted back a laugh, though her cheeks turned a decided pink. "If that was supposed to be a pick up line, you need to work on your delivery skills."

"I've been patient," he said softly, as he traced her rosy cheek. "I've given out so many hints that Gladys is rethinking her opinion of you being the brightest witch of our generation."

Hermione looked into the usually cold grey eyes that had softened to a pearly silver. "Don't think I've haven't noticed our….er….potential. But I never believed it would work. I didn't think you'd ever consider me as a possible….you know. I mean, you're practically wizarding royalty. And me? I haven't changed. I'm still the M-word."

Draco's heart began to race with delirious joy at the ramifications of Hermione's words, but fearing he might scare her off if he showed his true feelings too soon, he tried to play it cool. "You're still the M-word? Oh….you're referring to _marvelous_ , aren't you? Or did you mean _magnificent_?" Giving her a playful wink, he said, "But if you say _majestic_ , I'll say someone's gotten a big head."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "You goof."

Draco took that opportunity to wrap his arms around her. "I have a better M-word though. I hope you won't mind it."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

" _Mine_ ," he whispered before he claimed her lips with his. Hermione gave a soft moan of delight as Draco skillfully demonstrated how much _his_ she could be. She eagerly returned his fervor and it wasn't long before they both were gasping for air.

"I...I can't believe we just did that," Hermione murmured between breaths as she rested her forehead against his.

"I can't believe we stopped," Draco pouted before he dove back in for round two of their snogfest.

"Wait," Hermione said, making Draco pause in mid-descent. "What about you being in such a rush to get to Bern? Should we…um…..I mean, shouldn't we wait until you get back to begin whatever this is between us?"

"Get back? Why would I leave now? I have all I need right here in this room."

Hermione chuckled as she traced his lips with her finger. "Thank goodness for muggle advances, eh?"

"Indeed," Draco agreed. "Now if I can be just as successful…..," he wolfishly grinned before he silenced them both.

For a very long time.

000

* * *

 **AN:** Yep. I use Google Earth. Daily. Also USGS topographic quad maps.  
My life is so exciting. LOL


	14. When His Father Heard About It

**Chapter 14: When His Father Heard About It**

~00~

"I know you're there. You might as well come in and be comfortable," Narcissa said. Lucius agreed. There was no longer any point in skulking by the door. He walked into the smaller study of his wife's. Sitting down in the Queen Anne chair closest to the fireplace, he said, "That was Severus, wasn't it?"

Narcissa nodded. "I imagine you heard him. Even in a fire call, his voice is unique."

"It always has been."

For a moment, neither said anything. Then they both blurted out their thoughts at once.

"Are you sure?"

"I never thought…."

"What?" they both asked together.

Lucius cleared his throat. "You were saying, my dear?"

Narcissa nervously fiddled with the top button of her blouse. "Severus said Draco was finally successful. He actually did it, Lucius."

"About bloody time," he huffed. "I was beginning to think the boy didn't have it in him."

Narcissa gave her husband a look. "There's no need to disparage our son. He's been under a lot of pressure."

"Most of it self-induced. When I was his age…."

"When you were his age, you didn't face the same obstacles. It was a simpler time."

Letting out an indignant huff, he said, "I do wish you wouldn't speak of our youth as if it was centuries ago. You make it sound as if I was a doddering old man with one foot in the grave."

"Hardly. You're a fine specimen of a wizard in the prime of his life."

Lucius sniffed, somewhat appeased at his wife's praise. "Did Severus say anything else?"

"He assured me that Draco covered his tracks. No one saw him. No one as yet suspects."

"No one?" Lucius didn't appear convinced. "Is he certain?"

"That's what he said. I….I trust his judgement. I have to."

There was another still pause between the couple. Finally, Lucius slapped his knee and said, "Well then…...it's time I talk to Draco. I can use him in the coming days."

"Oh, Lucius….so soon? Can't you give our poor son a rest? He's already proven where his allegiance lies."

Lucius smiled indulgently. "All right, Cissy. I suppose a few days more won't matter. Although I can just imagine his surprise when he finds out the truth."

That comment earned him a grin from his wife. "Please let me be there when you tell him."

They both chuckled at that; then Lucius said, "I expect he will try to avoid me for awhile; I can't see him wanting to tell me about his….what do they call it these days?... with Miss Granger."

"Do you mean relationship? Or are you referring to his being in love?"

"I was thinking more of what Severus caught them doing in his storeroom."

Narcissa actually snorted. "I think the word you're groping for is snogging."

"Let's pray I'm the only one doing that."

"Doing what, dear?"

"Groping."

Narcissa made a face. "Please. I don't want to think of my boy that way."

"Your boy is old enough to make boys of his own. However, I think he's an honorable lad. We shan't have to worry about that. At least, I hope not...not until all this is over."

Wanting to change the subject, Narcissa said, "What I can't imagine is Draco thinking we wouldn't notice his feelings for the witch. He might have been able to fool his friends, but his own parents? Did he think we were blind?"

"Perhaps. You know how young people are."

"True. Let's see…..I'm trying to recall when it first started. Wasn't it sometime during his first year?"

"Try the first week of his first year."

Narcissa smiled at Lucius' keen memory. "Ah…..you remember, then."

"You have to admit his first letter home was hard to forget. His description of Miss Granger's hair amused me for weeks."

Narcissa laughed. "Do you remember when he came home during the holidays, complaining about her being such a show-off? Just because her marks were higher than his."

Lucius sighed. "I only remember how hard it was to play my part. Having to slur Ms. Granger's name when I wanted to chide my own child for his petulance." Looking into his wife's warm eyes he confessed, "I think that's been the hardest part in all this. Living a lie before our child so he couldn't inadvertently reveal our true natures."

That instantly silenced Narcissa's mirth. Putting a thin hand over his large one, she said, "I know, my love. I know it was. _My_ greatest fear was that he would grow up to be the thing we pretended. But be comforted. In spite of the roles we have had to play, our son has done well. Today, he revealed his good judgement and finally followed his heart."

"Did Severus say how Miss Granger responded?"

Narcissa smirked. "By his account, it was mutual. It does take two to tango, as the Muggles say, and Severus said she's always been the type to give as much as she gets. Whether it's insults…...or…."

"Kisses," Lucius finished for her. "Passionate, is she? She'll be well-suited for our son."

"We've always known that, dear. But she's also discreet. Her friendship with Draco is one she's kept hidden from her friends. From what I understand, she and Draco have been meeting privately for some time after she caught him comforting a first year Hufflepuff who had been bullied. Apparently, that act of compassion softened her heart toward our son."

"Ah. I'd wondered what had been the catalyst in the change in their relationship."

"Severus said she's been talking to Draco about leaving us and joining the Order."

Lucius nodded. "And today?"

"Severus said today Draco told her he would. That's what started the…."

"Snogging?"

Narcissa cleared her throat. "The exchanging of affections."

Lucius grinned, then sighed once more. "It's Friday. I will give Draco tonight and tomorrow to enjoy his newfound freedom. But before Monday, I want to talk to him."

"You know he will not be himself at first. I doubt he'll even look you in the eye."

Lucius acknowledged that truth, but said, "I know. But it's time he knew the truth about our…."

He said, " _assignment_ " the same time Narcissa uttered, " _position."_

"...in the Order." he finished for them both. "Which will be his responsibility, too, going forward."

"All right. I'll let Severus know."

Once Narcissa delivered Lucius' message, the enigmatic professor called Draco to his office. "Your mother just paid me a visit."

Draco stiffened, although he only said, "I hope it was about the new robes she promised. I've outgrown these."

His professor gave him a withering look. "Do you imagine your mother would waste my time and hers over satisfying your excessive preoccupation with your appearance?"

Draco stared back at the man. "Then why was she here?"

"Your father has requested a meeting with you. He wants you to floo home for Sunday dinner."

He watched as Draco swallowed hard. "And if I should choose not to go?"

Severus raised his brow. "I imagine your choices will not stop this meeting, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's eyes turned hard. "Is that all?"

Severus nodded. He watched as Draco whirled around and stormed out of his office. He had no doubt what Draco's next action would be; he'd find a way to tell Hermione this conversation.

He had no doubt she'd come to his rescue; the resourceful chit would manage to spirit Draco away under her oblivious friend's noses to Order Headquarters before the weekend was over.

And he had no doubt that Draco would be surprised to find Lucius Malfoy waiting for him there to share a life-changing conversation.

His father had heard about his secret. Now it was Draco's turn to hear about his family's.


	15. Escape To The Order

**AN:** _Below is a continuation of the previous chapter's story, "When His Father Heard About It". I hope you enjoy!_

 _._

Chapter 15: Escape To The Order

* * *

000

"They're not going to believe me."

"Yes, they will."

"They won't accept me."

"Of course they will."

"No, they won't."

"Gah! Will you stop with all the negativity? Draco, _they will_."

The doubtful look on Draco's face changed to one of hurt.

"You don't have to get mad, Hermione."

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm not! Okay…..you know what? I can't make you believe me. You'll just have to see for yourself."

Hermione and Draco were talking in furious whispers behind a curtain in one of the many alcoves at Hogwarts. After dancing around their mutual attraction for the other for the past few months, earlier that day they had finally given expression to their desires. But their bliss had been short-lived; Professor Snape had caught them fervently snogging in his potions storeroom and had ordered them both to their common rooms. After Hermione had left, he'd detained Draco and asked him what he thought he was doing. Draco had stammered and stuttered. Inwardly, Severus tutted; they boy would need to be a better liar than that if he was to help his father in his work. Giving the red-faced lad a look of disdain, he had sent him off after telling him he needed to think hard on the choices before him. Hardly an hour had passed when the surly professor called Draco back into his office to pass on a directive from his father.

Come home.

Draco knew what had happened; Snape had told his father about catching Hermione and him in the throes of passion. That's why his father was ordering him back to the Manor. He cringed thinking of what would be in store for him once he got there; his father's displeasure would be severe. Worst of all, his parents may think an extreme measure might be needed to ensure Draco to stay on the path he'd been put upon from the moment of his birth.

Would his father pressure him into an engagement to one of the Greengrass girls? Or worse, would he force Draco to marry Pansy Parkinson? Draco would not have opposed a union with Daphne or Astoria had his mind and heart not already been set on Hermione, but _Pansy_? Draco shuddered. Pansy would be a cruel punishment. Loud, abrasive, not an attractive feature on her, being bound to Pansy would be Draco's idea of hell on earth.

No, wait. That wasn't right. Inflicting Pansy on him would not be the _worst_ thing his father could do. True hell on earth would be the other punishment his father could impose on him. Depending on how upset his father was, he might insist on Draco taking the Dark Mark.

The more he thought about it, the more Draco feared that probable outcome. He could imagine how it would play out…..his father ordering him home for a family dinner, only to find out _dinner_ was a code word for _evil tattoo party_.

Once there, Draco would have no way out that would not result in very grave consequences, not only for him but for his family. Particularly his mother. Draco knew he couldn't chance that _._ The solution was simple; he couldn't, wouldn't go home. He would have to, for the first time in his life, disobey a direct command from his father. He would have to act on what he earlier told Hermione he'd do…..

...he would have to join the Order.

* * *

000

After Draco had successfully contacted Hermione and told her of his dilemma, he began to have misgivings. Would the Order accept him? Probably not. With his pedigree, why should they? They certainly wouldn't trust him. However, Hermione would not listen to his doubts and told him where to meet her on Sunday morning. To Harry and Ron she would say she was going down to the boat dock to study, whereas in reality she would be meeting Draco just outside the gates of Hogwarts to apparate together to 12 Grimmauld Place to meet with the Order. She told Draco she'd already sent an owl to Alastor Moody to gather the Order members there for an interview with a wizard who wanted to enlist. She told Draco she didn't tell them who it was; he didn't know if that made it better or worse. Maybe it would have been better if they knew they were about to see son of death eater Lucius Malfoy at their door; or maybe Hermione was right when she said it wouldn't matter to them…..they would never turn down a wizard in need. Hermione had listened to his fears until she couldn't stand it anymore and had shut down the conversation by saying, "Just be outside the gates at nine; I'll take it from there."

Sunday morning arrived, clear and bright, not something that was often seen by those living in the Scottish Highlands. To Hermione, it portended good tidings for Draco that day; for Draco, however, it just meant he might be more easily recognized, his bright blonde hair shining, a beacon in the morning light, making him all the more conspicuous to any passerby.

Hermione shook her head at her boyfriend's nervousness, but she understood from where it stemmed. It must be a hard thing to go against a lifetime of indoctrination. Seeing Draco's trembling hands, she found herself once again despising Lucius Malfoy.

"Put your arms around me," she said.

"Just can't get enough of this fabulousness, can you?" Draco quipped in an attempt at humor. Hermione grinned at her boyfriend before giving his nose a soft peck. "Save it for later, Lover Boy. You can give me a raincheck."

"A raincheck? On a day like today?" Draco asked, the muggle term confusing him as the day was so sunny.

'Nevermind. Just hold me."

Draco did as he was instructed and a moment later, found himself on the doorstep of his Great-Aunt Walburga's home. "This is the headquarters of the Order?" he asked in astonishment.

Hermione nodded. "Sirius gave it to the Order to use." She reached over to bang the hammered metal door knocker. Together they listened as the steady beat of footsteps drew near. Then they heard the deadbolt being unlocked. Draco and Hermione suddenly found themselves in front of their former professor, Remus Lupin, He gave Draco an enigmatic stare; a few seconds passed before he moved aside to let them in. "Everyone is already here," he said as he motioned for them to follow him.

Walking down the hallway, Draco noted that not much had been changed; the house looked as dreary as it ever had.

Remus paused before he opened the doors to the kitchen. "Are you ready?" he asked Draco.

This was it. The moment that would change his life forever. Nervously swallowing, Draco grabbed Hermione's hand, then looked the werewolf in the eye. "Yes, Sir. I am."

This time Remus smiled warmly. "Good man. Well then, shall we get on with it?" With that, he pushed wide the double door to reveal a group sitting around a massive wooden table.

"The Order of the Phoenix," he said, gesturing to the group before him. Draco looked around the table. Some faces he knew; others he didn't. It was no surprise to see the Headmaster there, smiling broadly at him, his eyes twinkling with unsupressed delight.

"And who might you be, Laddie?" asked an elderly witch sitting by Molly Weasley. Before Draco could respond, a voice spoke from a far corner on the other end of the room. "He is my son."

Both Draco and Hermione gasped. They watched as the tall form of Lucius Malfoy walked out of the shadows to stop beside the massive fireplace occupying most of the space in the wall next to them.

"Father?" Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Draco," he nodded. "I…..I can't tell you how long I have longed for this moment," his eyes eloquently expressing the truth of that statement.

"No more than I," another voice joined in. Draco turned his head to see his aristocratic mother step out of the pantry with a tea cosy in hand to cover the teapot presiding over the table.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. It was the loudest quiet Draco had ever experienced. He frowned in confusion, unknowingly allowing his face to become hard. Misinterpreting that look, Narcissa made a queer little choking sound, shattering the silence. "Draco... _please_."

That was all it took for the spell to be broken. Draco rushed over to his mother, wrapping his strong arms around her. "Mum," he said brokenly, hugging his mother with all he had. Lucius moved over to the two and placed a hand on each head. For a moment all one could hear in the room were the soft sounds of love coming from mother and son.

"There, there," Lucius finally said after a few minutes had passed. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, he gave it to his wife. "No need to drown him, Cissy. I'm sure Draco has many questions he wants answered."

Mother and Son quickly wiped their eyes of the inconvenient moisture that had accumulated there.

"What a pair of jellies," grumbled Mad Eye from his place at the table.

"Let them be, Alastor," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "It's not often that a family has this joyous a reunion."

"I…..I don't understand any of this," Draco said.

Lucius clasped his shoulder. "Your mother and I joined the Order before you were born."

"But…..but….."

"We were given the task of collecting intelligence against the enemy."

If Draco hadn't been gobsmacked before, he was now. "You've…..been spies against….. the Dark Lord? _All this time_?"

Lucius nodded. "Even when others thought him dead, we knew better. Your mother and I believed it would only be a matter of time until he once again became a threat. So we prepared. We played our parts while gathering information that might be helpful for the Order later on. Since his return, we've had to be even more diligent."

"Then why….. _why_ didn't you tell me?"

Regret showed on the proud man's face. "Son….please understand. It would have been too great a burden for you to hide at so young an age. We couldn't take that chance."

Draco stood there, swallowing repeatedly, each fist a ball.

"Well, are you going to just stand there gulping as if a bowtruckle was stuck in your throat?" asked a familiar voice from the other darkened corner. A familiar snarky voice.

"Pro….Professor Snape?"

"Who did you expect? The Queen, perhaps?" Severus chided as he moved into the light.

"You're a spy, too?"

Severus curled his lip. "Obviously."

Draco whirled around to look at Hermione. "Did you know all this?"

Hermione shook her head. "Only about the Professor….but not about your parents."

"Well then, it's time I remedied that." Lucius walked over to where Hermione was still standing by the door. "Lucius Malfoy, Wizarding London Liaison to Scotland Yard and Secret Intelligence Agent for the Order, at your service, Ma'am." Bowing, he took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Thank you, my dear," he said in a soft voice. "Thank you for bringing our son to us."

Hermione looked as flabbergasted as Draco. "You mean…...you don't mind? Me? Uh, I mean, us? Being together, that is?"

Lucius grinned while motioning his wife over. "We were counting on it. Ever since the day we received a letter from our son containing nothing other than a description of the, and I quote, _'Snotty Swotty'_ , we knew our son had found his match."

The wizards and witches sitting at the table overhearing the conversation chuckled at that.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Really now, Draco….. _snotty swotty_?"

He sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I was only eleven."

"Never mind that, Darling," Narcissa said, placing her arm around Hermione's waist. "That's all in the past. What's important is now. Since you're here, you and Draco can be briefed."

"Briefed? On what?" asked Draco.

"Why, on what your positions will be in the Order. I'll be counting on both of you in the days to come," explained Lucius as the other members made room for them around the table.

As they sat down in the places emptied for them, Hermione bumped Draco's shoulder with hers and said, "All that needless worrying, Draco." Then she smirked in triumph at her boyfriend. "Told you they'd accept you."

Draco put his hand over her knee. Only to reach over to pinch the tender skin on the side of it. "Know-it-all," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, grinning when Hermione jumped.

Lucius and Narcissa couldn't help but laugh at the two.


	16. Bad Guys

Chapter 16: Bad Guys

* * *

000

"Woo-hoo! Here they come!" shouted Lyra gleefully, her eyes on the television screen as the cowboys rode into town. Turning to her father she smirked, "I told you Marshall Cody would find a posse to help him, Daddy."

Draco smiled back at his daughter. His greatest enjoyment was not in watching the old black and white westerns but in seeing how much enjoyment Lyra got out of them.

"Don't crow yet, Lyra. The bank robbers are still at large," advised her grandfather, sitting beside her. "They just might get away."

That was an additional joy for Draco; to see his father, the infamous Lucius Malfoy, engrossed in a classic muggle TV show. Draco was hard put to hide his laughter when Lucius started talking to the screen as if the characters could hear him.

"Idiots…..could you pick a more obvious place to hide?" A few seconds later, he added, "And for the love of Merlin, would you shut up, man? They'll hear you."

Lucius' complaint was directed to the main villain who was in the middle of a tirade because his assistant had misplaced one of the bags of money.

"Now is not the time for that. Do it when you make it out of town."

Unfortunately, the ringleader paid no attention to Lucius' comments and continued to rail against his cohort. This did not improve his current audience's opinion of him.

Snorting contemptuously, Lucius muttered, "You sound like a screeching fishwife. Someone needs to cast a silencio on you."

Lyra giggled. "They're not magical, Grandfather. None of them can cast. Besides, they're _supposed_ to get caught. They're the bad guys."

Lucius looked at Lyra strangely, but refrained from offering any other critique regarding the incompetency of the outlaws.

Before long, a gunfight erupted in front of the livery stable.

"Pow, pow, pow!" yelled Lyra while pointing her finger at the TV.

"Violent child you're raising, Granger," Draco said to the witch who had just walked into the room.

Hermione gave her husband a look. "Me? You're the one watching this with her."

Just then, the Marshall blasted his way to the bandits' hiding place.

"BOOM!" shrieked Lyra when the door blew apart.

"Shush, Lyra...you'll wake up your brother," said Hermione as she sat down by Draco. "It took me forever to get Scorpius to sleep."

After a minute or two of watching the program, Hermione chuckled. Shaking her head, she said, "I honestly don't see how you three can enjoy this. I can't tell who's good from who's not."

"The bad guys scowl more," said Draco.

"And apparently bathe less," Lucius added in a droll tone.

Lyra turned around to look at the adults in the room. Putting her small hands on her equally small hips, she huffed. "Nuh-uh. That's _not_ how you know."

Smiling indulgently at his daughter, Draco said, "Then tell us, Pumpkin."

With an exasperated face that was pure Hermione, she said, "The bad guys wear the bananas."

Draco chuckled. "Bandana, Sweetheart."

Lyra ignored him. "See?" she walked up close to the TV and pointed to one of Dastardly Dan's men. "Every time they rob a bank they pull their ba..ban...danana up. You know what that means, don't you?"

Without waiting for a response, she said, "Bad guys _always_ cover their faces. Good guys don't."

The silence in the room after that artless remark was deafening.

Hermione's eyes darted to her father-in-law. Lucius' cheeks were flaming in embarrassment and with a deeper emotion…..shame. The old sinner knew quite well the truth of Lyra's statement. As a death eater, Lucius had been a terror to all on the side of the light until the Dark Lord made the mistake of executing Narcissa. Never having loved a woman before, Tom Riddle had not realized what the loss of his wife would do to his faithful follower. Lucius had taken Draco and together, they'd gone straight to the Order. Turning himself in, he supplied them with information that had been key to Voldemort's defeat. After the war and because of his massive contribution in aiding the Order, Lucius was acquitted of his former crimes…...but that didn't mean he didn't deal with them. On the contrary. Since Lucius often visited them, Hermione knew firsthand the nightmares he battled on a regular basis. And in most of them, he was wearing his mask.

Because as his half-blood granddaughter so wisely pointed out, that's what bad guys always do.

Just before the silence became too uncomfortable, Lyra said, "This is the sad part coming up."

Hermione looked away from Lucius to see what her daughter was talking about. "What darling?"

"This part here. Marshall Cody's gonna have to arrest his brother."

"You've already seen this show, Lyra?" asked Draco.

She nodded. "Don't you remember, Mummy?"

Hermione shook her head, honestly perplexed. But then, Lyra had watched so many episodes of the American series, they'd all started to run together in her mind.

"See…...Marshall Cody used to be a bad guy, too. But then he got hurt. While he was at the hospital, a preacher came and talked to him. When he got out, he decided he didn't want to be bad anymore so he became a Marshall instead."

"You mean to tell me…...Dastardly Dan is Marshall Cody's brother?" asked Lucius.

Lyra nodded her head. "Uh-huh. And Marshall Cody used to be bad, just like him. But he changed. Now he's the bestest good guy there is!"

"Why is he the 'bestest', Lyra?" asked Draco softly while keeping an eye on his father's face.

"Mummy 'splained it to me. It's easier to be good if that's all you've been. But to change to good when you've been bad, takes…..takes…"

"Takes courage, Lyra," said Hermione. She reached over and took Lucius' hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

"Uh-huh. And that's what makes them the bestest." Turning back around to the TV, Lyra said, "Ooh….I forgot this part….,"

While she watched the show, she had no idea of the tender looks that were going on behind her. Then she giggled. "Marshall Cody's about to get kissed by the school teacher…."

The adults all watched as the brave lawman did indeed get snogged by the comely schoolmarm.

"Another happy ending!" chirped Lyra. Just as she was about to skip out of the room, she turned around and said, "Oh! And…...that's another way you can tell a good guy…"

"What way is that, child?" asked Lucius, once again looking relaxed. And at peace.

"The good guy always gets kissed in the end!"

"He does, indeed," murmured Hermione as she leaned over and gave her father-in-law an affectionate buss on his cheek. Then remembering there was more than one good guy in the room, she gave her husband a convincing confirmation of her belief in his worth.

Afterwards, Draco smirked and quipped to his father, "Well, if we go according to the pattern of these shows, I believe it's now time for us to ride off into the sunset." Clearing his throat, he drawled, "Ain't that right, Pa?"

The corners of Lucius' mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement at hearing his son's posh, aristocratic voice attempting a cowboy twang. Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, "Is that so? Well, then…..saddle up. Yee-haw!"

* * *

 **AN:** Okay. I admit it. This is probably the silliest thing I've ever written. But it is my nod to my own childhood. When I was very young, Westerns were the rage. Bonanza, Maverick, Wagon Train, to name just a few and of course, the Granddaddy of them all, Gunsmoke. Like Lyra, I loved the simple characters of those shows and discovered early on that our couch made an excellent pony whenever my mom would leave the room.

I also had a massive little girl crush on Hoss Cartwright of Bonanza. Not Little Joe, but Hoss. I thought he was the sweetest thing. LOL


	17. Reunion

Chapter 17: Reunion

He was standing there, waiting. Hermione gasped. It had been too long since she had seen the love of her life. He was more handsome than she remembered. Even at a distance, she could see the way the soft breeze gently played with the strands of hair that fell across his brow. She marveled that the twinkle in his grey eyes had not been diminished by their long absence from each other.

Crying out in aching need and longing, she ran over to where he stood beneath a flowering hawthorn tree.

"Finally," he murmured as he gathered her tightly in his arms. "I finally have you again."

"Draco," she cried in joy and wonder. "Is….is this real? Can this really be happening? Or…is this another dream?"

"It's real this time, Love," he said comfortingly. Then he murmured, "Hermione?"

She looked up at the sound of her name, spoken in that soft voice that always left her breathless.

Draco gently took her chin and tilted it at an angle. Then he lowered his head and caught her lips with his. The kiss he gave her was passionate. Hermione felt herself melting under the strength of his desire for her.

"There," he grinned smugly when he let her go. "Admit it. Your imagination could never have come up with something as good as that."

Hermione laughed and cried at the same time. "I've missed you so," she said, her tears wetting his shoulder.

Stroking her hair, Draco comforted his wife. "Shh, Love. That's behind us now. Let the past go." Then a thought hit him. "Would you like to see our new home? Well…new to you, anyhow."

"Of course."

Draco led her up a beaten path into a well-tended garden. Green of a vibrant shade one would never see in Britain carpeted their path. Beautiful flowers of every color bordered the yard.

"Oh…..Draco," Hermione murmured as she looked around. "It's more beautiful than I ever imagined."

"Wait until you see the house," he said excitedly, a delightful expectancy shining on his handsome face. "You're going to love it."

He paused when they finally came to the edge of the yard. Before them was a cliff. A peninsula jutted out into a cobalt sea. There, situated in the middle of the outcropping was the prettiest cottage Hermione had ever seen.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly.

Hermione tried to hold back her hair as it whipped about her head from the continual gusts of wind. Beautiful waves danced below them before crashing into the rocks. Seagulls cried out their songs above them. The sun sparkled like diamonds on the water.

"Oh….my..…" Hermione was speechless.

"I was asked, you know. About the kind of house we would want. I….I didn't think you'd want a manor. So I chose this cottage. You know why, right?"

She nodded, too overcome with happiness to speak. They had spent their honeymoon nestled in a cottage like the one before them. It too, had overlooked a sea.

"It's perfect," she finally said.

Draco smiled, relieved. Kissing her once again, he said, "As much as I would like to show you around inside it, there are a few more things you need to see first."

Hermione nodded. Her joy at being with Draco again made her feel near to bursting. And with it was another happiness, too. One she couldn't quite put her finger on. But it was pervasive and all-encompassing. A sense of well-being. Then she realized what it was. It was peace. Total and complete peace.

She looked up at Draco, about to question him about it, but he gave his head a little shake. "I know. But it's not for me to answer. Come with me, Love. Soon you'll understand."

Taking her hand, he intertwined her fingers with his. She noted absently that his were no longer twisted with the painful arthritis that had crippled them before. He led her down a sandy path to the water's edge. Giving her a wink, he indicated they should both step into the sea. Suddenly, in fact, so quickly Hermione had not seen how it'd happened, they were across the ocean to another shore.

"Well….that certainly beats being side-alonged," she remarked drolly. Draco laughed out loud at that. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her husband laugh so heartily.

 _Wait….what was that?_

An image suddenly filled her mind of a much older Draco laughing with his…great-grandchildren on his knees? Then another image filled her mind. This one was of Draco speaking to a healer. Of the healer shaking his head while putting his hand sympathetically on Draco's shoulder. Of Hermione, aged and withered, crying. Then an image rushed over that one. It was of herself, dressed in black and crying over a coffin.

Image after image filled Hermione's mind. Of the hard years, thankfully few in number, after Draco's death. Of her loneliness. Of her sorrow. Of her waiting….and wishing. And missing...oh, the horrible missing, the ache of it so intense at times that she prayed for death. For release from the pain.

The final image that she saw was of her in a bed. Her family was around her. A minister came to offer a prayer and speak to the family. Then all left but one. Her youngest granddaughter, now a grown witch with children of her own. She began to softly hum to Hermione her favorite song. It had been the one that she and Draco had danced to at their wedding.

Then her granddaughter leaned over and whispered, "Granny...if you hear him calling you, it's okay to go."

Hermione drifted in and out after that. Then a voice woke her. She thought it was her grandson at first. But then she heard, "It's time, Love. Come back to me."

She opened her eyes. Her final vision was of Draco under the tree, waiting for her to join him.

She blinked then, seeing Draco watch her intently as she relived the last moments of her life.

"Do you understand now, Hermione?" he asked softly.

She paused. "I'm…..I'm dead now, right?"

"No," a cheerful, triumphant voice nearby said. "Now you're truly alive. The nightmare is over. Joy has come in the morning."

After that, it became so bright, it rather was hard to see. Hermione found herself squinting, a hand over her eyes to shield them from the living light around her and Draco. It was as if the sun had come close to shine on all who had gathered to greet Hermione. But she was able to make out some of the faces. Some brought surprise; others brought tears of joy. She saw many who had gone on before her. Her parents, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Fred and George, reunited once again, Sirius, and then beside Sirius was… _Oh_. It was Harry. She choked back a cry. The last time she'd seen him was after he'd been taken to St. Mungo's after suffering a heart attack. He looked boyish, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said with a wave. "Sure you want your cottage to be over on the Slytherin shore? It's prettier here."

"See? Even here, he's a git," said Draco playfully. Hermione laughed at that, happy tears of joy. Tears of reunion.

She saw they all stood in front of a massive castle that rose up high into the clouds. A castle that looked strangely familiar, with a lake that connected to the sea on one side and a deep forest on another. She was trying to remember where she'd seen a place like that before when she saw a little hut on the side of a hill. The door to the hut suddenly opened and a massive, hairy person stepped out of it.

"Mione!" Hagrid called out in delight. "'Bout time you came, young'un. Draco here had jus' about driven us spare with his impatience to have you with 'em."

Hermione was just trying to puzzle out how she could hear Hagrid from such a distance when Draco whispered in her ear, "We were all waiting for you. And now you're here.

Welcome home, Love."

* * *

000

 **AN:** Those of you who know my story, know the reason I wrote this. It just sort of poured out of me. This has not been edited, so forgive any typos, etc.

I borrowed thoughts from CS Lewis at the end. Those being that our life here is the dream; heaven is the reality. Also, that the reason we love the earth is because it is a type, a copy of the real thing in heaven. If you want to read more of those themes, read _The Last Battle_ , book 7 in the _Chronicles of Narnia_ by CS Lewis.


	18. Kismet

_This first started as a mini-drabble on tumblr. Folks liked it and asked for more. I was happy to oblige. You can see the moodboard for this story on my tumblr account. Same name, Trinkisme._

Chapter 18: Kismet

He watched her as she made her way through the crowd. She looked like a bride herself in her beautiful dress. It clung to her slender form and showcased the goddess within her. Not in a revealing way, though Draco wouldn't have minded that; but in a graceful bearing. Hermione Granger, a muggleborn, put all the elitist pureblood girls there to shame and made them look like common weeds growing in a mud puddle . She, in contrast, was an edelweiss, a beautiful flower belonging high on a mountaintop.

Her normally outrageous hair had been pinned back in some style; Draco didn't know what to call it and didn't much care as long as it kept affording him views of her long slender neck.

He sighed and continued to watch as her nimble fingers picked up a cup of punch. He noticed the way her lips touched the cup as she took a sip. How he envied that cup. He looked down at the glass of firewhiskey he'd been nursing. Taking a final swallow, he placed the container on a nearby table and began to make his way over to the war heroine.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

He'd been a coward his entire life. But some things were worth the risk.

She definitely was.

* * *

000

Hermione knew he was coming. Her peripheral vision had been sharpened by the war; more specifically, the months she, Harry and Ron had been on the run. She had seen Draco Malfoy when he'd put down his drink and started her way. Her hands immediately began to perspire; she had to remind herself not to wipe them on the dress she was wearing. Why she had chosen this gown to wear to Neville and Luna's wedding, she didn't know. Only that it had looked classic, beautifully feminine and….. _pure_ when she'd seen it displayed in the store window. Hermione was too humble to realize the dress fit the woman.

She took another hasty sip of her punch and almost choked on it when she heard a voice to the side of her say, "Hello, love."

Hermione looked up and peered into Draco's eyes. A sudden intense fire showed in them in answer to her gaze. She hastily took a step back. "Malfoy...are you drunk?"

 _I will be if we get any closer_ , he thought. His arms ached to hold her; he longed to see her lips form his given name.

"Please….call me Draco. And no….I'm not intoxicated. At least, not by alcohol," he dared to say. He wondered if Hermione could hear his heart. He felt it beating like a hammer.

Unknown to him, Hermione's heart was thrumming similarly. Draco's changed beliefs had been fodder for the press since the trials. His consistent support for reforms. His massive contribution to the rebuilding efforts at Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. His overhaul of Malfoy Manor. Hermione had heard through the ministry grapevine that he'd put his foot down with his parents and demanded a complete renovation of the ancestral home, including a demolition of the room where she and so many others had been tortured. Hermione admired the courage it took for him to start over; to begin again. Over the months, that budding admiration had evolved to respect, then into wistful longing before blossoming into…...well, into something she'd not had the courage yet to name. Despite all that...or maybe because of it, Hermione was scared to believe the impression she was getting. Was Draco hitting on her?

 _Best to make sure,_ she thought. She didn't want to get her hopes up.

"What are you doing? Are you…..are you _flirting_ with me?"

Draco was surprised at Hermione's question. Most witches would know when a man was showing interest in them. Then he remembered his lioness lived in the rarified air of total honesty. She wouldn't be at home with insinuations and hinting. Only transparency would do.

He paused before he moved next to her. He could smell her perfume now. It was lavender...and honey? The clean and comforting scent brought him an inch closer. Hermione was now less than a candle-length away.

"What…..wha…." was all she was able to utter before he bent his head down and captured her lips in a soft but chaste kiss. Then he stepped back.

A crimson blush crept across Hermione's cheeks. Her mouth gaped open at his sheer audacity. He'd kissed her in the middle of a crowded room!

Before she had a chance to say anything, Draco took her hand and said, "Forgive me for taking such liberties, but I've come to realize that no one has the right to live my life but me. From now on, I'm going to be the one who decides what I should have or do." He reached out and cradled one of her cheeks with his hand. "What I want to have is _you_ , my Gryffindor princess. And I what I'm going to do is win your heart….if you'll let me, that is." He bent his head to whisper in her ear, "I want you to be mine."

He watched her face as she assimilated his words. "You want….. _me_?"

Draco wanted to curse himself. He knew his cruelty to her when they were children had contributed to her low self esteem when it came to her attractiveness to the opposite sex. That, and the way her moronic friends still treated her like a walking encyclopedia instead of the pretty young witch she was. It was time that he changed that.

"Yes, I want you; I've wanted you for a _long_ time. Along with nearly every other Slytherin male of our year. But we were never allowed to express it. So it came out twisted. I'm sorry about that, by the way. Truly sorry."

Hermione had never seen Draco looking so contrite.

He shrugged apologetically. "If you had been in any other House, we would have pursued you, no matter your blood status….but since you were in Gryffindor…. _and_ the best friend of the Chosen One….."

"You keep saying we….but I've not had anyone else approaching me, _Draco_."

Draco blushed but then winked. "Well...that may be because I called dibs on you some time back."

Both of them laughed at that admission.

"Draco…." Hermione began before he interrupted her.

"I know I don't deserve a chance. But I can't help but hope you'll give me one."

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted so badly to believe him. But she'd been burned before. When things seemed too good to be true, they generally were. "This….this isn't some joke, is it? Did you make a bet that you could get me to go out with you?"

Hermione wanted to take back her words when she saw the look of genuine hurt cross Draco's face.

However, all he did was mumble, "I deserved that," as he looked down at his shoes. Sighing, he muttered to himself, "Karma _would_ pick this time to catch up with me."

Hermione paused; she decided Draco shouldn't be the only one willing to take a risk. She reminded herself she was a Gryffindor.

Rising to her tiptoes, she lightly brushed her lips against his. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

As soon as he felt her lips on his, Draco forgot they were in a crowded ballroom with reporters in attendance. He took Hermione into his arms and kissed her back. Passionately. Desperately. Neither of them noticed the flashing of lights as their picture was repeatedly taken.

When he finally released her, they were both out of breath. All around them, the room had become quiet. Then Luna's lilting voice could be heard.

"See, Neville? I knew it would be a better idea than tossing my bouquet and garter."

The newlyweds walked up to where the other couple stood, still wrapped up in each other's arms. Draco reluctantly let go of his hold on Hermione and attempted to straighten his tie.

"My Aunt Heloise gave us a kismet catcher for a wedding present," Luna said as if that explained everything. "I convinced Neville to hang it up at the entrance over there," she pointed to a side opening. Every face turned in that direction to see what she was talking about.

"Neville expressed some doubts, but I knew it would work. Aunt always gives the best gifts."

Hermione saw a small meshed hoop hanging from a nail. It had been embellished with what looked like hippogriff feathers. It looked to her like a muggle dream catcher.

"Luna...I don't think….." she began before her dotty friend interrupted her.

"Oh, I know you don't believe in divination, but I'm afraid that's one of the few things you're ignorant about. The kismet catcher caught you and Draco, and that's all there is to it."

Hermione didn't dare look at Draco, afraid she would begin to laugh uncontrollably. Or that he would. She started wondering if the punch had been laced with Mr. Lovegood's home brew. The last time she'd been coerced into sampling it, she'd seen rainbows for a week. Thankfully, Draco came to the rescue.

"Are you sure that's what that is?" he asked, alluding to the primitive-looking gift on the wall. "Perhaps your aunt meant it to be used as a decorative piece," he suggested, although he didn't know of anyone besides Hagrid who might want to decorate their home that way.

"Oh, no, my aunt said it was a kismet catcher and she's never wrong about these things. Besides, it's proven to have already worked," she said as she nodded at the two of them. "I was wondering how long it would take before we started seeing results. Guess we know now who'll be marrying next."

After that comment, they wandered off to speak to their other guests. Hermione ventured a peek at Draco.

He looked at her sheepishly. "Apparently, all the worrying I did about approaching you was for naught. According to your little friend, our coming together was fate."

Hermione put her arm around his waist, gently lifting herself up to steal another kiss, confident now that she had every right to. "Fate….kismet….. _magic_. I don't care how it happened, only that it _did._ "

Well. Draco wasn't going to argue with that.

* * *

 **AN** : Hermione's last line was adapted from a quote by Shannon Hale. The Lovegoods making moonshine was inspired by Annamonk's, "Crazy for You."


	19. Twins

Chapter 19: Twins

Fidgeting…...fighting anxious thoughts…..counting the minutes. That was all he could do. Draco felt helpless in the aptly-named waiting room at St. Mungo's. He looked at the bleary grey decor. He was having a hard time swallowing. He could swear those blasted walls were creeping up inch by inch, closing in on him. His eyes felt hot and scratchy; he wished he could cry. It would make him feel better. But Draco knew tears didn't come just by the wishing of them. At least, not for him. Others were luckier. Harry Potter evidently didn't have any trouble letting his emotions out. Neither apparently did his eternal sidekick, Ron Weasley. They were both standing by the water cooler, each with an arm around the other in a show of support and commiseration. Hermione was their best friend. But she was infinitely more than that to Draco.

 _I should have told her how I felt. Why didn't I?_

Draco couldn't lie to himself; he knew why. Because he was still a stinking coward. Because he didn't think she'd believe him.

Because he wouldn't be able to bear her pitied rejection.

They had become friendly, something that was unavoidable really, seeing how they were partners in the Auror department; yet he'd never let on how hopelessly in love he was with the muggleborn.

 _This is all my fault_.

He thought their assignment that day would be easy. It _had_ been easy. The convict had been easily captured. Draco thought he was contained. He'd not seen him rise up on one elbow to cast a wandless hex. Draco had turned his back on the prisoner for just a second to ask Hermione a question; he couldn't even remember now what it had been. All he could replay in his mind was Hermione's beautiful face grimacing in shocked pain when the spell hit her. The sound of her whimper and then an anguished, choking gurgle as she coughed up her own blood. His own enraged cry as he whirled around to avada the wizard who had done this to his secret love, only to find him dead by his own hand. Draco avada'd him anyway, hot tears falling furiously from his eyes. Then he heard a dull thud as Hermione's body collapsed to the ground. The bloodlust clouding his mind turned to ice in his veins. He hurriedly scooped her into his arms and apparated with her to the hospital. Once there, he fired off a patronus to Potter.

The healer on duty commended him on his quick thinking, casting a stasis charm on Hermione's wound, thereby keeping the spell from spreading and preventing further blood loss, but it was small comfort to Draco. He didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of Hermione's face, small and ashen, as she came to. Her fingers trembled as she reached up to trace his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her hand coming away damp with his tears.

The healers took over then. They'd made him leave. They'd insisted he stay out of their way. They'd consigned him to one of the Circles of Hades; he was sure of it. Waiting had to be an infernal punishment.

And he'd not seen her since.

That had been four hours ago. Four hours of wondering…..four hours of being afraid…...four hours of his heart breaking in two.

Four hours of deciding that if he was given another chance, he wouldn't waste it.

He would tell Hermione he loved her.

Wearily dragging his hands through his hair, Draco sighed. He glanced over at Potter again. The dark-haired wizard was staring at him, a knowing look in his eye. Draco watched Harry give Ron one more pat on the shoulder. Then his one-time nemesis walked over to where he sat. He clapped his shoulder and murmured, "I know Mate. I know."

Draco startled at that declaration. What _exactly_ did he know?

"I….I don't know what you mean," he hedged.

In spite of his worry, Harry snorted. "Right. You don't know anything about how you've been in love with my best friend since the war was over. And don't bother denying it. You can't fool me."

"You're blooming barmy," Draco muttered.

Harry gave him a small smile. "Have it your way, then. But just so you know….I think the feeling is mutual."

Draco saw the sincerity in Harry's face. His heart leaped with the hope Harry's words gave him. Maybe Hermione would give him a chance.

That is, if she pulled through this.

Just then the door to the waiting room opened. The healer who had been on call when Draco brought in Hermione stepped out. "Auror Granger is stabilized now," were the first words out of his mouth.

Draco sagged in relief.

"Can we see her?" asked Ron.

The healer nodded at the three wizards in front of him. "Follow me."

As he led them through the corridor, Harry grimaced at the sound of pain coming from patients within the different rooms. Ron squinched up his nose at the bad smells. But Draco noticed none of it, so intent was he in seeing Hermione.

The healer stopped when he came to the double doors of a room that was different than the others. "This is the CCC, or Critical Curse Chamber. Only patients afflicted with spells most foul stay here. When they improve, they are assigned a room of their own." He paused. "I can only give you a few minutes with her. Although we have neutralized the curse, she still sustained significant internal damage. She is not out of the woods yet. No loud noises. And if you've recently been prescribed with Pepper-Up potion, I will have to ask for you to wait outside."

"We're all well," Harry assured the man. "I promise."

"Very well." The healer opened the door to a room that looked alien to the young aurors. Strange huffing balloons were floating above Hermione's bed, reminding Ron of the dirigible plums of the Lovegood's. A charmed cauldron was nearby, emitting a bluish smoke that hung around Hermione's head to better enable her to breathe the healing fumes. Quick quills were busy scratching on the levitated sheets of parchment, notating Hermione's vitals. But the oddest sight was the intermittent flashes of green that were coming from Hermione herself.

Draco eyed it cautiously. "Is that the curse leaving?"

The healer looked up to see what Draco was talking about. "If you are referring to the flashes, then no…..that's Miss Granger's magic. It's signaling for help from its twin."

Harry frowned. "Come again?"

The healer looked over his bifocals at the famous young wizard. "Your friend sustained a serious injury. As such, it's natural her magic would seek out its twin to help with expediting the healing. We see it all the time with our critical cases. Its an instinctive reaction from their core. Comparable to what muggles used to refer to as an SOS."

"Seriously?" asked Draco. "It's not that…..I mean, I've read about twin souls and magic before…...but I thought it was a joke. I never believed it was real."

"Me, either," said Ron. "I thought it was like Babbity Rabbity…..you, know…...a fairy tale."

"Well, I've never heard of it at all," said Harry.

The old healer shook his head in disbelief. Were none of the old truths taught at school anymore? He let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Every magic has its twin, just as a soul does. It's not fairy tale; it's fact. It's a lucky wizard or witch who finds their mate for one of them. Those who do have stronger powers; they can combine their strengths to produce almost instantaneous healing, easier childbirths, increased longevity and many other advantages. But for those few blessed individuals who find _both_ their twin soul and magic within one person, that pair is nigh unstoppable. They are the stuff of legends; of stories and fables."

Ron eyed the emerald flashes with trepidation, but Draco gazed at them with wonder.

 _So beautiful_ , he thought. He couldn't help but be drawn to the glimmers that were eerily reminiscent of the green of Hogwarts' Slytherin House.

Without any conscious thought of doing so, he reached out from where he stood at the foot of the bed and touched one of the beams of light as it flashed by. As soon as he did, a silvery sheet shot out from it to form a dome of light, enclosing him with Hermione.

The healer instinctively tried to pull Draco away, but the older man was pushed back by the power of the magic.

Both Ron and Harry jumped in surprise.

"What do we do?" Ron gasped. He wasn't particularly close Draco, but he didn't want another of their squad injured.

Harry, however, was not afraid; he knew Draco was in no danger. He had seen this kind of magic before. It reminded him of the dome of light that had been made by his and Voldemort's wands.

 _Which was formed when twin magicks collided._

The three outside the sphere watched as Draco moved to sit on the side of Hermione's bed. He picked up one of her hands and held it with both of his. They heard him when he uttered, "Take what you need."

Hermione's eyes fluttered opened at the sound of his voice. She stared at him as if unsure whether she was dreaming or not. "Dra...co?"

He nodded, holding the palm of her hand against his cheek. "Whatever you need, love…..take it," he reiterated.

The trio outside the bubble watched in fascination as bright streams of light began to bleed from Draco to Hermione. They watched, mesmerized, as her emerald strands greedily absorbed his golden ones.

"Blimey," breathed Ron. "It's like they had each other's house color inside them."

"That would follow pattern, then. I've read that mirroring is a twin effect," the doctor said while still observing the couple. "Identical twins are _exact_ reflections of one another."

"What do you mean, identical?" asked Harry. He couldn't take his eyes off Draco and Hermione. Both were now glowing. Literally.

"A perfect match," said the healer in answer to Harry's question. "Magic and soul." His voice sounded reverent. "The perfect point and counterpoint."

Ron looked gobsmacked at first, but then the Weasley sense of humor came out. "Those two _would_ end up being twins, hey Harry? The snot and the swot."

Harry chuckled. "How 'bout the pain and the mane?"

Ron grinned victoriously. "Not even close."

The healer paid no mind to the two of them. He continued to watch the pair before him. Draco had taken Hermione in his arms, helping her sit up. He continued to hold her as he whispered something in her ear. The healer saw Hermione's eyes sparkle with unshed tears. She threw her arms around the blonde and whispered something back. A dazzling smile now replacing the worry, Draco lowered his head to give her a kiss that went from tender to sizzling in the blink of an eye.

A perfectly matched pair, twin souls and magicks, had been discovered that day.

The old healer wondered how many stories would be birthed from their union.

* * *

000

 **AN:** I'm back! Well…..sort of. LOL Thank you to everyone for your prayers, well wishes and loving thoughts. I can now say with confidence that my husband is well on his way to recovery!

The first bit of the story was taken from real life. That was exactly how I felt during my husband's surgery while I was in the waiting room. It was horrible. I'm so thankful one of my daughters was able to come sit with me after a time. I can tell you, being alone during that first hour was tough.

When I was finally able to go up to ICU, he was in a holding room where specialized nurses were in the room with him, watching him around the clock. They talked to my husband, trying to rouse him, but he didn't respond. Finally, I said something to him. It was then when his eyes opened for the first time. He had heard _me_. My heart overflowed!

The ending was my little joke about how many stories the Dramione ship has birthed.

And for those who aren't familiar with it, SOS is the International Morse Code distress signal. It is associated with the phrases, Save Our Souls or Save Our Ship.


	20. Seven Days In France

**AN:** _This was first posted on Tumblr as an accompaniment to a moodboard I made. Riverwriter requested a story to go with the images...so this is what I came up with._

Chapter 20: Seven Days In France

Hermione sighed in grateful relief when she'd shaken the last hand after the meeting. This week had been a busy one at the summit she'd attended in France. Draco Malfoy had also been there; the two of them assigned by Kingsley to represent the ministry. She glanced at the blonde now as he gave a nod to the French under secretary to the minister. Once he'd left, they were alone in the conference room.

"Well, that's that," he said. "We could not have hoped for a better outcome."

Hermione smiled at Draco. He'd changed so much since the war. He'd pulled himself out of the rubble of his upbringing; he'd made amends to those he'd wronged. He'd become a friend; nay, more than that, really. Not that he knew that, though.

Just then, an owl appeared outside the window. Draco went over to retrieve the message tied to its leg. Opening it, he began to read; then he grinned.

"It's from Kingsley," he said in answer to Hermione's look. "Word travels fast; he's already congratulating us on our work here."

Hermione chuckled as she dropped down into a nearby chair. Slipping off her heels, she rubbed one of her aching feet. "He should; we worked our butts off."

"Still have mine, thank you very much," he quipped.

 _And so do you_ , he thought, admiringly. _Thank Merlin._

Hermione Granger was no longer the frizzy haired, overworked third of the golden trio. That honor had been relinquished about a year after the war. Maybe it was the absence of doom hanging over their heads that finally caused her eyes to be opened, but when it dawned on Hermione that Harry and Ron expected her to continue her role as personal assistant to them, she told them they could stuff it.

Their constant demands for help and attention no longer dominating her day, Hermione found she had the time and energy to devote to other interests. One of the very first things she did was to care for someone who sorely needed it. On the suggestion of Draco himself, she treated herself to a vacation. Molly Weasley tried to warn her of the improprieties of a young witch traveling abroad alone, but Hermione turned a deaf ear. She arranged for a portkey that would take her to Rome.

While she was there, she got her wild mane cut into a short pixie style that brought out the loveliness of her heart-shaped face. Feeling deliciously light and free, she set out to do what _she_ wanted for a change. Hermione toured the city, ate the best of local fare and woke up each morning to an espresso and a returning zest for life. After Rome, she'd apparated to Switzerland to finish out the remainder of her vacation on a walking tour of the country. Being out in God's beautiful creation soothed her spirit. Part of her former melancholy had been the war. She knew that. But now she was seeing how much of a drain it had been on her to be in two unhealthy relationships. She was determined not to make that same mistake again. The rest of her life was before her. She was going to live it.

Three weeks after she'd left London, she came back with a glowing tan and a new lease on life. One of the first things she did was to take Draco out to dinner as a thank you for encouraging her to get away.

"You didn't have to do this, Granger," he said between bites of steak. "You're allowed to be selfish every once in a while."

"I would have never worked up the courage on my own," she confessed. "I would still be where I always was. Ron and Harry's grunt. Overlooked. Unappreciated. Exhausted."

"Tossers," he sneered. "I know I can't talk, seeing as how I bullied you before, but everyone in Slytherin wondered why you put up with them for as long as you did. Even my mother, who was no fan of muggles back then, thought it abhorrent the way they took advantage of you." He put down his fork and leaned closer to her; his grey eyes captured her brown ones. "Say what you will about my father. I know what he was. But he treated the women in his life with respect. Even with my insane aunt (Hermione couldn't help but shudder at the mention of Bellatrix), he showed more regard for her feelings and welfare than the dimwitted duo ever did for you."

Thinking back to that evening, Draco knew he hadn't fancied Granger when he'd encouraged her to think of herself. True, when she'd come home with that atrocious owl's nest lopped off, he'd done a double-take; Hermione Granger was…...pretty?

 _Beautiful is more like it_ , Draco now thought as he eyed the witch in front of him.

Learning how to work with a former enemy hadn't been easy. Every day had cringe-inducing moments where he was forced to recall a slur, a mean-spirited remark. Her torture. His bigotry.

But they got through it.

Now he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be around. Hermione in her fetching muggle dresses, always with a smile and sometimes, a wink for him. Stimulating conversation. Good-natured bantering. On weekdays they ate lunch together and their Thursday night dinner for two was an unspoken reservation they both kept. For a solid year they'd done this.

Now Draco wanted more. He wanted it all, actually.

He stared at Hermione, wondering if she'd ever give him a chance for a forever kind of relationship. She'd been hurt by Ron and Harry, but surely she was healed now.

Draco finally made up his mind.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained,_ he reminded himself.

Giving her the parchment from Kingsley, he said, "The minister is giving us a paid week off as a bonus for the work we did here." Watching her eyes sparkle in delight at that bit of news, he asked, "Want to spend it here?"

"Sorry?" Hermione thought she hadn't heard right.

Draco walked over to where she was sitting. Crouching down in front of her, he took one of her hands.

"It would be a dream vacation for me. But only if I could share it with you. Please say yes." For the first time, Draco knowingly allowed his heart to show in his eyes.

Hermione sucked in a breath; was she dreaming? She stared at his expressive face, his eyes so eloquently saying what his tongue found hard to form.

 _He feels the same way I do._

She reached out with her free hand and timidly brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. They were as silky as she'd always imagined.

"Yes," she whispered.

She watched as a shy kind of smile she'd never seen before on Draco grace his features. His eyes softened.

Unknown to Hermione, her face was showing the same wonder….the same humility.

They both knew where this was headed.

* * *

When asked years later, they always referred to their vacation in France as the turning point in their lives. Not when they got their Hogwarts letter, not when the war ended, but the seven days alone on the continent. Seven days to cement the love that had been slowly building for a year. During those seven days, Draco and Hermione strolled hand-in-hand down the avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris, enjoyed some of the many outdoor cafes, toured a vineyard at Bordeaux and sampled the various wines there, and while they were near it, went to Le Verdon-sur-Mer to enjoy the sea.

As each day passed, Hermione's heart fell more deeply into Draco's grasp. Her heart thrilled when he stopped and hand fed her grapes at the vineyard; when they'd gone boating, he'd held her in his arms while she'd leaned back against his chest, her eyes closed, feeling the sun and sea breeze work their magic on the two of them.

Draco was no different. Everytime a handsome young man eyed up Hermione, saying something in French that made Draco's ears turn red, it took all he had not to hex them. Each morning as they ate their standard breakfast of coffee and croissants, he wished their time together would never end.

The day before they were to portkey back to England, Draco told Hermione he was going out for a bit and suggested she get a massage while he was gone.

When he got back a couple of hours later, he found Hermione still in her lounge pants.

"Change your mind about the massage?"

She frowned, her bottom lip poking out in a bit of a pout. Draco thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "No, they weren't open. I was by myself the entire time…..and I didn't like it!"

Draco wanted to laugh but then realized he'd never get a better intro than that. Pulling Hermione into his arms, he whispered into her hair, "What if I said I could make it so you would never be alone again. Would you let me?"

Hermione gasped. "Wha….."

Draco knelt down in front of her. With his long fingers, he fished out a small velvet box from his pocket. He swallowed nervously. "Or what if you had the power to keep me from ever being alone again? Would you do that for me?" His voice, so vulnerable and unsure, broke.

And so did Hermione.

Throwing herself into his arms, she whispered, "Yes".


	21. Wedding Part I: The Blessing

**Wedding, Part I: The Blessing**

It would be the wedding of the century. And quite possibly, the one to end all wars. At least, those caused by pureblood supremacy ideology.

Hermione Granger, the female third of the Golden Trio would today be bonded in magical matrimony to none other Draco Malfoy, scion of the Malfoy dynasty and former death eater. Their wedding would be held at the ancient seat of the Malfoy family in Wiltshire, but in a move that would cause the wizarding press to go into a tailspin, all wards were being temporarily removed to allow muggle guests to attend the wedding.

Another item of interest that would surely be reported would be those who were to stand with the bride and groom…. _._

 _ **It has been revealed to the Daily Prophet that the Chosen One, Harry Potter himself, will be one of those attending in the highly anticipated Malfoy-Granger nuptials. Accompanying him will be Ronald Weasley, War Hero and Order of Merlin First Class recipient, Neville Longbottom, Order of Merlin First Class recipient and Blaise Zabini, Witch Weekly's Winsome Wizard of the year. His Grace Theodore Nott, of the ancient and noble House of Nott, will be fulfilling the role of best man for Mr. Malfoy.**_

 _ **Ginny Weasley Potter, Holyhead Harpies seeker, will be attending the bride as matron of honor. Joining her will be Fleur Weasley, co-owner of Shells & Spells Gift Boutique, Luna Lovegood, roaming correspondent of The Quibbler, Pansy Parkinson, newly appointed Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Hannah Abbott, assistant manager of the Leaky Cauldron. **_

"Isn't it odd that they described the men by honors or titles and the women by the work we do?" observed Luna as she read the society column.

"Pfft. Whatever," dismissed Pansy with a wave of the hand. "Those reporters don't think I actually work. They think I show up in class everyday just in time to flirt with the seventh year wizards. They can't imagine I _enjoy_ teaching."

"If they would visit Hogwarts, they would soon see that, Pansy. You are a credit to the school. And you are proof that people can grow and change. Why, you know more about muggle technology than I do." Hermione smiled kindly at the witch. She and Pansy had grown very close. No one was as surprised as they. The two unlikely friends had found a kindredness in each other and loved the other fiercely.

A soft smile replaced the frown on Pansy's face. Rising up from her chair, she said, "Let me help you with that, love. You don't want it falling off during the ceremony." She secured Hermione's veil and tiara with an additional comb.

"I told Draco this thing was too heavy. It keeps slipping to the side. Bloody crown's going to give me a headache," she groused, but tenderly touched Pansy's hand as a thank you for her help.

"I'll put a feather light charm on it. That will help. Can't have you complaining of a headache on your wedding night," Pansy winked.

The other girls laughed when Hermione's cheeks began to glow crimson.

"Draco thinks you're a princess, Hermione. That's why he wants you to have the family jewels," Luna remarked, not realizing how that would sound to everyone else.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, they all burst out laughing.

Luna frowned, puzzled. Then her face cleared. "Ah…..you were thinking…"

"...that it was time to have our pictures taken before the ceremony," Pansy cut in, trying to spare her bashful friend further embarrassment. She knew Hermione had wanted to wait for marriage to be intimate. It was one of the things that, oddly enough, had drawn Draco to her. He'd been raised in the old ways. He was honored she'd saved herself for him, for he had done the same. Pureblood traditions dictated no less. The coming together of two virgins made a magical union all the more potent.

"Come, ladies…..let's leave the bride with her matron of honor. The customs must be observed." Pansy said as she herded the other witches out of the room.

"But…..shouldn't it be the mother of the….." began Hannah just before Pansy shut the door.

"Now it's just us," said Ginny.

Hermione looked at her friend through the mirror. She'd acted strangely all afternoon. More thoughtful. Sentimental, even.

"What's going on, Gin?"

"I want to give you a blessing, 'Mione. Is that alright?" she asked with unusual gentleness.

Hermione was quick on the uptake. She'd read about the gifts bestowed on brides before a wedding took place. She gasped. _Surely she doesn't mean_ ….

But Ginny did.

The custom Pansy had been referring to was a ritual that went back for centuries. It was customary for the mother of the bride to present her daughter with the blade that would bond the couple. Normally, a family knife was used; one imbued with power, protection and charms unique to that house. Before the dagger would be given, the mother would call forth a vision to see what runes should be added to it, for these would also serve as the couple's marriage marks.

Ginny had witnessed Hermione's struggle in the wizarding world. She'd seen the unfairness of it all. Her friend had put her life on the line to save a world that had not wanted her. That fact made Ginny see red. She decided to do something about it. She would take upon herself the time-honored duty of a magical matriarch. She would have this gift crafted as a testimony of her love and devotion to the witch who quite literally was the reason her brother and husband made it out of the war alive.

But it would come at a cost. Magic had a price.

Ginny didn't care.

First, she'd gone to her husband. Harry had tears in his eyes when she'd finished telling him what she'd had planned. He offered to do it for her, but she refused. Harry had given enough for others. This was her duty and pain. Next, she consulted her mother. As expected, Molly was in favor of the idea. She gave her daughter the name of a seer she could trust. Ginny had gone, not knowing what to expect. But when she gazed into the Eye that belonged to the prophetess, a series of images appeared to her. She knew they were the runes for Hermione and Draco, because the symbols spoke of forgiveness, of acceptance, of new beginnings….of redemption. House Malfoy would rise again, this time forging a legacy far greater and lasting than the one before it.

Ginny had already selected a knife. She'd found a kirpan that was perfect and fit her intent. She herself carved the runes she'd seen in the Crystal. Within the recesses of the grooves, she added the powers of her family. For that, magick demanded payment. It had been necessary to spill blood; her blood. She had done it willingly; joyously, thereby further adding to the spell's enchantments. The long, ugly scar she would forever wear afterward bore proof of her commitment.

Seeing the blade Ginny now held in her hand, Hermione beheld for the first time the disfigured arm. The time had come for love to be revealed. She knew what Ginny was about to do.

"Oh," she whispered, tears clouding her vision.

The redhead gently wiped them away. "You aren't allowed to ruin this fabulous makeup job of mine."

Hermione gave her a watery chuckle. "Yes, Sister."

Ginny's face softened at that declaration. Once she was done, it would be fact. Magic would make it so. Hermione would be a member of House Weasley and Potter. And soon afterward, Malfoy. She would be the bridge uniting the three great houses. No one could ever say again she had no place in their world.

Ginny placed the kirpan in Hermione's hand. "You know what this is for, don't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Right. Now I know you're better at incantations than me, but this time, I get to be the caster." Then she spoke solemnly, the magic of her affirmations hanging heavy in the air. "The blessing of our House be upon you. The strength of our House I give you."

Ginny began to inscribe her family's runes on Hermione's shoulders with the tip of her forefinger. Hermione sucked in a breath; she felt a warmth travel down through skin and tissue where it finally rested, deep inside her bones. She closed her eyes as the velvety flow of Ginny's magic settled on her. The soft cadence of the Latin phrases was calming to the nervous bride. In the spell Ginny was chanting, the bright fires of the Burrow, the laughter of the twins, Ron's faithfulness, Molly's kindness, Arthur's childlike wonder, the adventure of Charlie, the intelligence of Bill….even the drive of Percy coalesced to gift Hermione with the greatest asset of that house…..a happy and loving home. From House Potter, Hermione felt the thrill of inclusion, of hospitality and camaraderie. Harry's love swirled around her in utter joy. Ginny added the final touch of her own indomitableness and Harry's bravery to make it complete.

Hermione was completely overwhelmed. Until then, she'd never truly fathomed the might of an ancient house. The Weasleys were so easy-going and affable, it was easy to forget that they were one of the twenty-eight. But now she felt the sheer power that coursed within her. It was formidable. She looked at Ginny. The younger witch looked back at her. Affectionately. Lovingly. But now that the blessing had been delivered, also with a hint of undisguised mischief on her face.

Hermione didn't understand why that was until her friend said, "Just so you'll be prepared…..you probably received the Weasley fertility, too."

 _"!"_ thought the bride.

Ginny laughed. _Our little surprise gift for Draco_ , she thought devilishly.

* * *

000

 **AN:** _For my sister._


	22. Wedding, Part II : The Men

**Chapter 22: Wedding, Part II : The Men**

While Ginny and Hermione were having their special moment, in another wing of the manor a different conversation was being held.

"Would you hurry up? You're going to make us late!"

Blaise flinched, the pain in his head throbbing at Draco's volume. The celebrations from the night before were exacting their misery. Taking a sip of coffee, he muttered, "Must you yell? I'm right here, you know."

"Give the bridegroom a break. Draco's decibel always goes up whenever he's nervous," Theo said. Giving his fingernails a quick check, he added in a bored tone, "Perhaps he's getting cold feet."

He privately wished it so. Draco had been his friend since childhood. He hated that he was about to marry someone so…so... _modern_. And with such decided opinions. The heir of the ancient house of Malfoy deserved someone more in keeping with their rank and sympathetic to their lifestyle.

 _Will she even allow Draco to have house elves anymore? Ugh…..I suppose we'll now be subjected to dinners where the conversation will be centered on creature rights….or that blasted muggle technology._ Theo's face darkened in anger at the thought. He believed he had cause to hate the growing influence Hermione held over his friends. Particularly in regard to one witch.

"You're barmy," Draco responded, pulling Theo out of his thoughts. "I'm the luckiest bloke that ever lived, and don't think I don't know it. I managed to snag the pride of Gryffindor. If anyone should be getting cold feet, it should be Hermione."

Ron and Harry smiled warmly at Draco's words, but Theo sighed loudly.

 _Poor sod….you really are bewitched._

"Malfoy….would you hold still? I can't fasten your cufflinks if you keep bouncing around," Harry complained. Draco had been so fidgety, he'd been unable to handle his buttons until Harry took pity on him and intervened. They both still called each other by their surnames, but at least now it was from habit instead of malice. In fact, Draco's relationship to Harry was quite strong. Hermione teased them about it and said they had a bromance. She wasn't too far off.

"What do you think the ladies are doing?" asked Blaise as he added another vial of headache potion to his cup.

"Probably got a cracking game of poker going, if Ginny has anything to say about it," teased Neville. "She loves that game. Beat me out of twenty galleons the last time we played."

"It's scary how good she is," agreed Ron. "She must be cheating."

"Maybe that's why she visited that seer a few weeks ago. She might be divining what cards you're holding." Neville grinned at Ron's expression. He'd been merely joking, but Ron obviously thought his comment had merit.

"Blimey, Harry. My own little sister's a sharpie!"

Blaise frowned, puzzled. "Sharpie?"

"Card sharp," explained Harry. "Someone who's wickedly brilliant at cards….most often a con artist. But relax. That's not what they're doing."

"Oh? You know something I don't?" asked Draco.

"Yeah. I do." That led to Harry telling the men about the blessing Ginny was bestowing on Hermione.

"Blimey…...that's powerful magic," Neville said after Harry was through. He was clearly impressed.

"My wife is one very powerful witch," agreed Harry. "So is yours," he nodded to Draco.

Draco stood silently, deeply moved by Ginny's gesture. He understood the ramifications of her actions. So did Theo. But unlike Draco, he didn't appreciate the gift. There would be no way now to nullify Hermione's clout among their friends and society in general. The connection to two Houses of the Twenty-eight and to one of the most famous names in the wizarding world meant not even his wealth and position could overshadow her. Blast that interfering ginger! Theo gritted his teeth in frustration. He felt in desperate need of a smoke.

"But I don't understand," Ron was saying. "How did the magic work? Hermione's not related to us."

Harry said, "She is now," at the same time Blaise answered, "The way these things usually work, I imagine. Blood oblation. Am I right, Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You should see Ginny's arm. It's not too far off from how 'Mione's looks."

Everyone wizard listening winced. They'd all seen Hermione's permanent souvenir from the war.

" _Gin_ …" Ron whispered.

"Well, this is all very touching," drawled Theo, "but shouldn't we be focusing on the bridegroom? Or do you intend to try to make this day all about the altruism of the Weasleys?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Ron. His face began to turn red, never a good sign.

"Oh, sorry there. I wasn't supposed to use big words, was I?"

"Shut it, Nott. This is not the time or place," Harry said, his voice taking on a steely edge.

"Yeah….why don't you just…." Ron started to say before Draco, trying to stop a fight, interrupted him.

"Theo….can you join me outside?"

Nott frowned but dutifully followed Draco out of his chambers.

"Bloody stuck-up prig," muttered Ron after they left. "I don't know how Draco can stand him."

"Draco _was_ him just a few short years ago. Or don't you remember?" asked Blaise while casually changing into his tuxedo.

Ron's scowl turned to a smirk. He chuckled. "Yeah, I remember. How could I forget?"

Harry eyed the Italian curiously. "Why were you never that way, Zabini?"

"Because my last name isn't as illustrious. It didn't come with ranking attached to it."

Ron cocked his head. "What do you mean? The Zabini line is a fine, respected wizarding house."

"So is the house of Weasley. But neither of us are considered to be part of the upper crust, the aristocracy." Blaise began to button his shirt. "Tell, me, Weasley…..do you have a title? And I don't mean that crap 'Weasley is our King' Draco made up years ago. I mean a real title. Do you?"

Ron looked down, embarrassed. "No."

"Don't feel badly; neither do I. But Draco and Theo do. And so will Hermione after she marries Draco."

Harry and Ron were surprised.

"Malfoy has never discussed it that I can recall," said Harry.

"Well….muggle nobility is not often the topic of conversation in a magical community. Still…...it commands respect. And power. Draco is an Earl while Theo's even higher. He's a Duke."

"Duke?" asked Harry. "Of what?"

Blaise grinned. "Can't you guess?

Harry looked at Ron and Neville. "Do you know?"

Ron shook his head while Neville smirked. He finally knew something Harry didn't. "Yeah. I know. But I'm not saying."

Harry turned back around to Blaise. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Think Potter. It has something to do with his name."

His name? Nott? Harry couldn't think of anything he would associate with it.

"Give up?" asked Blaise.

Harry nodded.

"Nottingham, of course."

Harry's brow rose. "Seriously?"

Blaise nodded. "I swear."

Ron snickered. "That figures. I bet the Sheriff of Nottingham was his ancestor."

"On the contrary. His ancestor was the legendary Robin Hood."

"Bollocks." Harry found that hard to believe.

"It's true. Why do you think Robin Hood is depicted as always wearing green? He was a Slytherin. A good one, I might add. He fought against two of the darkest wizards of that time, Sir Guy and the Sheriff. They were stealing from muggles. Terrorizing villages. Sound familiar?" Blaise swallowed his last bit of coffee and stood up. "Muggle legends never had it right. But whatever. Theo's lineage used to be an honorable one until his grandfather and father threw in their lot with Voldemort. I'm sorry he's acting like an arse now."

Well. That was something that was going to have to sink in to the male members of the Golden trio. Nott had Robin Hood as an ancestor.

 _Ha! Bet Goyle's descended from Friar Tuck,_ thought Harry amusedly.

It was Neville who returned the subject back to what Blaise had mentioned before.

"So….once she's married…..Hermione will be a…"

"Countess," said Blaise. "But she will be called Lady. Lady Hermione Malfoy."

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Harry said, "It suits her. She _is_ a lady."

"Aye. That she is," agreed Ron.

* * *

000

"Theo…..you're going to have to accept this."

Nott took a drag of his cigarette. "Why?"

"Because I love her. She's my life now."

Theo blew out a puff of smoke. "You see, that's what I'm not understanding. How in the name of Merlin did that happen? You despised her in school."

"Well….perhaps I did when we were younger. But my feelings changed."

"So you've said. Still bloody hard to believe. The both of you fought like cats and dogs." A wicked grin spread across his face. "Or don't you recall that sucker punch in third year? I distinctly remember the sound of your nose crunching on impact."

Draco chuckled. "I deserved it."

"No doubt. But do you want to be shackled the rest of your life to a hellcat?"

Theo watched as Draco's smirk turned into a soft smile. "I can't wait."

"Gah….you're hopeless." Theo took another long drag and purposely blew it into Draco's face. "I know a whipped pup when I see one."

Draco waved away the nicotine cloud. "But a very happy one. Before Hermione, I was desperate. And lonely. You can't understand what that felt like. You always had Pansy."

"Had is right," mumbled Theo.

Draco gave his friend a calculating look. "Is that what this is really all about? Pansy?"

Theo angrily snuffed out the remaining stub of his cigarette. "She was fine with our situation until she took up with your witch. Now she'll hardly give me the time of day."

"Pansy grew up, Theo."

"Yes, thank you. I'm quite aware of that. Unfortunately, it was _away_ from me."

"Only because you stood still."

Theo paused. The look in his eyes changed from anger to resignation. "Regrettably, being still is what happens when one can't move. My chains are heavy, Draco."

"You're not chained. Not any longer. We're finally free."

Theo shook his head at Draco's optimism. Granger had obviously influenced him. "Not all of us have bright futures to look forward to. You know what I'm tied with….what my name carries."

'I know your father is in Azkaban for the rest of his life, just like mine. That means you can make your name what you want it to be. House Nott can be great again. Your ancestors would attest to that."

"But all of our connections….our interests….."

"...can change with you." Draco put his hand on Theo's shoulder. "What do you think I've been doing? This a new world. I, for one, want to live in it."

Theo gave Draco a wistful look. "I can hardly believe I'm saying it, but you actually manage to make me feel…..jealous?"

Draco laughed. "Good. Then join us. I'll help you...you know I will. Pansy would too, if you would let her."

"I doubt it. She doesn't want me. She's made that abundantly clear."

Draco rolled his eyes. Theo was worse than Ron when it came to understanding women. "Does she know you want _her_?"

"What?"

"Have you tried being honest with Pans?"

Theo looked at Draco like he was crazy. "Are you mad?"

"Are _you?_ She's probably just waiting for you to declare your intentions. For some strange reason, witches like that."

Theo released a long-suffering whine. "Is that really necessary? I've called her Duchess since fifth year. Wasn't that hint enough?"

Draco snorted. "That's like asking if a handshake is enough to make a baby."

A sudden gleam filled Theo's eye. "'I've always wanted that, you know. To see Pansy filled with my babes. To watch her grow round with them. Dark-haired little tots with rogue eyes and dimpled cheeks. I can see them, Draco. I can see my children. Mine and Pansy's."

Draco understood. He'd been through the exact same thing. "So go after your vision, Mate. Woo Pansy. Don't assume she knows how you feel….tell her. Often." He paused. "You do love her…..right? It's not just because she would make an acceptable match?"

Theo became deadly serious. "Of course, I do. It's always been her. I'll never want anyone else."

"Tell her that."

"Is that what you did with Granger?"

"You need to get used to saying Hermione. And yes, I did. Just between the two of us, I don't mind telling you…..I was petrified. Scared she'd laugh at me…..or break my nose again. But see how it ended? It was the best decision of my life."

Theo tsked. His moment of transparency over, he once again affected nonchalance. "But how beastly inconvenient. All those emotions….and declarations….." He pretended to shudder. "It's so…..touchy-feely."

Draco laughed. "But effective. Try it. It worked for me."

Theo sighed. He supposed there was nothing for it, then. He couldn't argue with success.

* * *

000

 **AN** : The bit about Robin Hood was just for fun. I don't think there is a Duke of Nottingham; I think it's an Earl instead. But I wanted Theo to be higher than Draco. I admittedly know very little about the peerage system of the UK.

And I read online that Brits use the term _card sharp_ while Americans use _card shark._

Right now, I'm thinking there will be two more parts to this story. Part three will be the ceremony and part four the reception.

Lastly, please forgive me for not responding to reviews here lately. Life has been crazy. Short story is the hubs had two trips to the ER, the last one ending with him being taken by ambulance to the hospital. I am thankful he was discharged last night, but he's not quite out of the woods. He will need a few weeks to recover. During that time, he will need me even more. I may be rather spotty on social media for awhile. PM's / responses to reviews may be infrequent. But I promise to make every effort to write when I can. I had already written this chapter before all this happened, so I'm glad I had something to offer you. Please know you are all very precious to me, and I appreciate more than I can say the time you've given me by reading my stories. I never take a follow or fave for granted and every review is a treasured gift.


	23. Wedding Part III: The Ceremony

**Wedding Part III: The Ceremony**

Jean Granger gave a sentimental sigh. She stood by the window, watching her husband as he made his way back to the manor. It was time to fetch their daughter. The mother of the bride turned to the handsome man patiently waiting at her side.

"Sorry, Harry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Jean."

She smiled bravely, but he knew her well enough to know the truth. Jean was no different than other mothers of weddings past…...she was having a hard time letting her daughter go.

Taking Harry's arm, she allowed him to escort her to her seat. The church was an old and beautiful one, seated within the property belonging to the Malfoys and only a stone's throw from the south gardens of Malfoy Manor, where the reception was to be held. Inside the sanctuary, pale hydrangeas mixed with blush cabbage roses to create an ambiance that was all Hermione. Jean touched the pocket sewn into her dress; yes, she'd remembered to put her handkerchief back. She'd already used it once. Ginny Potter had come for her to give Hermione a final kiss before the wedding. All it had taken was one look at her daughter in her bridal loveliness for Jean to start crying. Silly, really, since she was normally not a crier; neither was her daughter, but both of them had become quite dewy in each other's arms.

"Mum," Hermione had whispered, trembling like a leaf.

"There, there," Jean comforted while rubbing her back in a soothing way. "What's wrong, love?"

"Well…..." she sniffed. "I…"

A thought hit Jean. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Hermione pulled back and gave her mother a incredulous look. "Of course not!"

"Oh…" She was taken aback at Hermione's sudden vehemence. "You just seemed….."

"Mental?" Hermione sighed, her fire disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. "Perhaps I am right now."

"Care to share what's got your wand in a knot?"

In spite of her nerves, Hermione couldn't help but smirk. She thought it comical whenever her parents used wizarding expressions. "It's silly, but…...Mum…..….I'm scared."

"Of what, dear?"

"Of…..of…...I don't know!" she admitted, confused and overwhelmed by her wildly varying emotions.

Jean laughed. She couldn't help it. Hermione was a wonderful daughter, but she did have a tendency to become a bit of a drama queen before big events. She now knew what the trouble was and why Hermione's moods were changing like the wind. Her daughter had always been high-strung. A perfectionist. She liked plans. She liked control. Being in charge kept fears at bay. But right now, with all the preparations done, she had nothing to do but wait. And waiting was the hardest thing for her daughter. It was, in its purest form, a state of relinquishing control; of being part of a process instead of being outside it, pulling the strings. She knew Hermione needed a distraction. She needed to get her mind off herself.

"Hon, I'm worried. You know your father….."

"Uh-oh. What's he done now?"

Jean grinned. "Other than try Narcissa's patience, nothing yet. But give him a little time."

Hermione snorted, knowing her mother was right. After breakfast, she'd looked out the window to see her father walking in the gardens with Draco's mother. She knew Narcissa's expressions by now. The look she'd been wearing had been one of patient endurance. Hermione could guess what was happening. Her father was probably quizzing her about every magical plant in her garden. Richard Granger was Arthur Weasley in reverse. Everything about magic fascinated him.

"He can't wait to meet all the magical folk coming to the wedding. I….I hope they'll take him well. He's not in danger of being hexed, is he?"

"No, Mum," Hermione chuckled. "They'll know to behave themselves."

"Well, that's a relief. He's such an extrovert, you know. He might forget why we're here."

"I hardly doubt he'll forget I'm getting married."

"He might. I do love that man, but sometimes he's dreadfully absent-minded. I'm afraid that once you two start down the aisle, he'll get so caught up in his winks and nods to the guests, he might walk you straight through and out the back door of the church."

Hermione shook her head in amusement. She loved her father dearly, but she knew her mother wasn't too far off in her assessment of him.

"You've got to keep him focused. When it's time for him to hand you off to Draco, don't let him lift your veil; Draco's supposed to do that."

"I know that, Mum."

"I know you do, dear. It's your father who will forget. I'm placing you in charge of him, Hermione."

Walking beside Harry, Jean snickered at the memory of their conversation, causing him to look at her curiously.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Just remembering my daughter's mini-meltdown before I came to the church."

Harry grinned. "I was wondering when that would happen. Was it as bad as the night before her Newts?"

"Oh, no….nothing that dramatic. She wants this too badly."

Harry smiled warmly. He knew that was true. He was happy Hermione had found true love. Draco was perfect for her, and she, him. Although it still seemed incredible that their childhood enemy had all along been her perfect match.

Jean continued to cling to Harry's arm. He'd always had a comforting effect on her. She loved him as she would a son of her own and had wondered at one point if he and Hermione might make a match of it. But that was before she'd met Draco. As much as she loved Harry, she now knew that he and her daughter would not have suited one another. Hermione and Draco did. Both were meticulous, both articulate, both stubborn. Both loyal to a fault. Both in need of someone who would understand them.

After Harry had seated her, Jean slyly looked around at the mixture of muggle and magical guests in attendance. She smothered a grin. It was amusing to see how wizards interpreted muggle fashion. One man, obviously magical, was sitting nearby.

 _He must be relative of the Malfoys_ , she thought.

His hair was white blonde and tied back in a sleek ponytail. He had on a suit of the most awful and garish shade of yellow Jean had ever seen.

 _Good Lord. That man can't be married. No woman, witch or muggle, would let her husband leave their home looking like that._

A little bit behind him was Professor McGonagall. Although Jean loved the professor dearly, the woman had never mastered the basics of muggle apparel. Right now, she had on a green fascinator, a purple silk blouse and a grey and red pleated tartan skirt. Jean shuddered.

 _Heavens above, Minerva, where are your eyes?_ Jean shrugged. _Although_ _I suppose it's better than canary yellow._

On the other side of the aisle, another woman sat. Close to Jean's age, she was trying (and failing) to look twenty years younger. This woman, obviously a witch, had peroxide blonde curls and was wearing jewelled glasses while twirling a green-plumed pen in her hand.

 _What is it with these magical people and their obsession with blonde hair? Thank goodness, Draco's is natural._

The sudden change in music told Jean it was time to stop her internal critiquing. Hermione's attendants would soon begin their procession down the aisle. She already knew she would find no faults in their stylish gowns. First, from a side door came Draco and his best man, the Duke of Nottingham. Draco looked excited, his normally pale face flushed. His Grace, the Duke, appeared bored _and_ nervous, if such a thing were possible.

Jean looked out of the corner of her eye to chance a glance at Draco's mother. Narcissa sat straight and prim. And alone. When he and Hermione had first started dating, Draco told Jean of his father's imprisonment. She wondered if his absence at the wedding would affect Draco. She didn't have to wonder that about Narcissa; Jean could see the tell-tale signs of tears around her blue eyes.

 _Poor dear. I'm glad she's coming over for dinner tomorrow night. That will help a little. I know she's going to miss Draco living with her._

Her attention was diverted away from Narcissa when she saw the first attendant, Pansy Parkinson, approaching the altar. Jean noticed the way the best man's eyes followed her as she made her way up to the front.

 _Well, well, well. What have we here...I believe Mr. Nott is quite smitten with her._

Next came the eccentric Lovegood girl. Jean didn't understand her half the time, but attributed it to the girl being an artistic sort.

 _That one was born out of time. Luna would have_ _been right at home in the 1960's._

In short order, the rest of the wedding party took their places to wait for the appearance of the bride.

Jean swallowed and smoothed non-existing wrinkles from her dress. An unaccustomed feeling of anxiety hit her hard.

 _Breathe, Jean. Now is not the time to have a fit of nerves._

The guests around her rose from their seats. Hermione and her father were beginning their walk down the aisle.

Rising with everyone else, Jean couldn't take her eyes off of either of them. Richard's face betrayed how proud he was of his exceptional daughter, his smile radiating enough wattage to render the lighting in the building unnecessary. Beside him, Hermione looked shy but happy, a demure smile peeking through the silk tulle covering her face.

A movement near the altar caught Jean's eye. It was Draco, turning around to see his bride for the first time. Beside him, Theo stood, grinning at the expression on his friend's face. Jean's breath caught when she saw the wonder so plainly written on Draco's features. It was the face of a man finding out angels were real and seeing one for the first time.

Awe. Speechlessness. Humility.

Theo had to make a quick grab for Draco's tuxedo to keep him from sprinting down the aisle to meet Hermione. Undeterred, he held out his hand to his bride, his eyes imploring her to join him. Jean had a sudden lump in her throat.

 _My heart...he loves her so._

The bride and groom's love for each other was causing the air in the church to pulse. The stained glass windows began to shimmer with the strength of their magic. The saints depicted in them momentarily came to life and began to wave to the couple, quite happy at being allowed to witness the union.

Seeing the figures in the stained-glass move, Jean gasped. She quickly looked around at her friends in attendance. Thankfully, none seemed to notice. They all had their eyes on the couple at the front.

As soon as he'd secured Hermione's hand in his, Draco drew her close. He slowly, carefully lifted her veil.

"Mine," he whispered. Then he kissed her cheek.

The priest gave a short, amused cough. Draco ignored him.

"You are so beautiful," he mouthed privately to Hermione, although all watching could clearly make out what he said.

"I love you," she whispered back.

Done with his part, Richard went back to sit with his wife. "Our doodlebug's all grown up now, Jean," he murmured in a low voice.

"She is indeed," she whispered back.

"He'll make her happy. He already has."

Jean looked at the couple's faces as they began their vows. Both were glowing.

"Aye."

"And think of all the cute grandbabies we'll have to love and spoil!" he whispered gleefully, then chuckled at the look on Jean's face. Sure, she wanted grandchildren….but not _now._

A few heads turned in their direction.

"Shhh, Richard. People will get the wrong idea. They'll think they're already in the family way."

"Tosh. This lot wouldn't care anyway. Do witches even carry their young? They're probably used to popping them out with an abracadabra."

That comment did get quite a few stares, as Richard's voice was not as quiet as he thought.

"Richard!" Jean hissed.

To his credit, the good doctor hushed after that. Jean sighed in relief.

It was now that time in the ceremony for the rituals to begin. The first one was the Circle. Draco began to walk around Hermione, circling her seven times to supposedly bring down any walls between them. Jean knew this was an enactment of the fall of the walls of Jericho when the Israelites marched around it seven times with the Ark of the Covenant. Unknown to their guests, he was also warding his bride with every protection afforded him by his family's ancient line. She was his jewel, his prize. His ark. His safe place. The holder of all that was and would be precious to him. She was his to protect and defend. When he was done, Hermione returned the favor and wound around him all the charms and spells she knew that would keep him safe.

The next custom was the sharing of cup. They had to be careful with this one, so as not to let too much magic show. The priest offered Hermione and Draco each a crystal flute. While their backs were to the audience, the priest nicked their ring fingers with the kirpan Ginny had given Hermione. As the droplets of blood fell into the flutes, he poured wine to mix with it. The couple swirled their glasses before together pouring the contents into a larger single chalice. Holding up the cup to bless it, the priest first gave it to Draco. He held it to Hermione's lips. She tentatively took a sip of the wine and blood that symbolized the union of their life forces and the combining of their joys. When she was done, she took the cup from Draco and held it up for him. He took a swallow, his eyes never leaving hers as he drank.

The final ritual was the binding. First they dipped each others' hands in a bowl of consecrated water, signifying the cleansing of any and all emotional hurts from the past. Hermione took her time, washing Draco's hands with great care. She wanted him to know that in her eyes, his past was completely washed away. He stood before her clean. _Pure_. The guests saw the groom tear up, but they had no idea why.

When it was Draco's turn to dip Hermione's hands in the water, he afterward kissed every knuckle on her hands.

"Thank you," he whispered.

 _Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for forgiving me. For loving me._

Hermione could only nod, so moved by his blatant adoration that words failed her. Nearby, Theo watched. But soon his gaze traveled over to the raven-haired bridesmaid standing quietly. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and saw Theo staring. She blushed but refused to end the connection. Remembering Draco's words, Theo let down his guard and allowed his eyes for once, to be eloquent. To talk for him.

 _I want this for us. I love you._

Pansy's eyes widened in surprise once she interpreted his expression. Her face grew soft and tender. The slight bob of her head gave him his answer. Theo's mouth dropped open in shock. He gave the priest a pointed stare.

 _Blast, man...hurry this up! I've got a witch to woo!_

Unaware of the other romance unfolding around them, Harry and Ron were watching Draco.

Ron leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. "I can't believe I'm saying this…...but Hermione's lucky to have him."

Harry kept his eyes on the couple, but nodded in agreement. The priest was tying their hands together now. Raising his arms in what the muggle guests would think a benediction, but was in fact a spell, he finished the ceremony and pronounced them man and wife.

Draco wasted no time after that. Not waiting for the priest to tell him he could kiss his bride, Draco took Hermione in his arms and demonstrated that he had skills beyond quidditch or potions. Richard chuckled as he watched them.

"Go get 'em, Tiger. To the victor belong the spoils."

Jean sighed knowingly. "There'll be no rest for Hermione tonight."

Richard winked at his wife. "So is it safe to bring up grandchildren again?"


	24. The Turning of a Season

_I originally wrote this as a companion to a moodboard I made on Tumblr. As someone who has always lived in the Deep South, I was wishing for a reprieve from the heat. I can't wait for autumn to arrive! I know I owe you guys one more chapter on the Wedding series. Consider this chapter an interlude._

 **Chapter 24: The Turning of a Season**

 _Has there ever been a more glorious day?_ wondered Hermione.

Looking out on the expanse of lawn behind Malfoy Manor, she watched the squirrels scamper across the green, scurrying back and forth between the trees that had begun to cover themselves with the colorful robes of autumn. Taking a sip of tea, she sighed with pleasure. Draco's personal elf, Mipsy, knew exactly how she liked it. Double sweet, with a splash of milk.

 _Ah….bliss._ Hermione's eyes shut as she savored the beverage.

She'd never felt more at home. Odd, really, when she considered what had happened there two years prior. But Draco had made his parents tear down that portion of the manor. Well…...he had made his father agree to it. Narcissa had wanted it gone almost as much he had. In its place he had built a beautiful music room, with wide french doors that opened to the terrace where she now sat. Behind her, she could hear Draco on the piano as he softly played her favorite song. Who knew the bully of Hogwarts had been hiding such an artistic soul? Not Hermione, that's for sure. But the end of Voldemort had brought about many revelations. Free of the tyranny, truths, long buried, were revealed. Honesty became the rage.

Masks went out of fashion.

She'd witnessed that at Draco's trial. He'd seemed almost relieved when they'd administered the veritaserum. She'd listened, spellbound, as he spilled the deepest secrets of his soul.

Draco had always wanted to be in Ravenclaw. He'd never really believed the Pureblood dogma.

Harry Potter rejecting his friendship had hurt more than he'd let on.

He'd always thought Hermione beautiful.

On and on he went, purging his heart of the secrets that had been crushing his spirit. When he was done, not a sound could be heard in the cavernous chamber. Hermione felt tears on her cheeks. She looked over at Harry sitting beside her and saw the same on his face. Harry knew better than she did the utter misery of being forced to live with family intolerant of any belief contrary to their own.

Once Draco had been declared innocent due to his age and upbringing, Harry was the first to make it to him. He paused for just a second. Draco watched him, unsure. But then Harry surprised him and everyone else in the courtroom by embracing him in a strong hug. Hermione watched, transfixed, at the shock on Draco's face. Cautiously, he returned the hug.

"I'm so sorry, Mate," she heard Harry say. "I should have taken your hand on that very first day." Harry recalled Draco's words at the time. That he would find some wizarding houses better than others.

Draco's loyalty to those he loved stood out strongly against Ron's defection when they'd needed him most.

Harry should have listened.

* * *

The wizarding world had been woefully behind on rehabilitation facilities and counseling services, so it had been Hermione who had pushed for those measures to be offered to those needing them after the war. That was when she'd first learned of Draco's talent. She'd come to check up on the progress of Theo Nott, who'd become a close friend after the war. He'd lost an arm in the battle of Hogwarts, but his good spirits and humor remained intact. He'd reminded Hermione of the twins. In fact, she'd recommended him to George to help out at the store. It hadn't taken long for the two to recognize a kindred spirit in the other. With Theo, the ache for Fred had lessened for George; it also didn't hurt that the former Slytherin was wickedly brilliant in all matters financial. George teased it was the only saving grace of the upper crust, that they all knew how to count up their galleons, but Theo good-naturedly shot back that it would soon include him. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was raking in the money, even more now that the war was over. George was on the fast track to becoming one of the richest wizards in England.

Hermione had just walked out of the lift at the rehab center when she heard it. Someone was outside in the lobby playing the piano she'd donated. And not just dinking around with the keys, but playing skillfully. Beautifully.

"Who is that out there?" she whispered to Theo.

"Draco," he replied. He observed the flush that spread across Hermione's face at hearing his answer. Theo had long known of Draco's true feelings regarding the witch; could it be that she might be in the same boat? Or if not in the same boat, at least in the same pond? Too curious to let it slide, Theo ventured to prime the pump. "That piece he's playing right now? He wrote it for you."

Hermione's breath caught. "What?" Surely she'd misunderstood.

Theo grinned. "He wrote it after seeing you coming down the stairs at the Yule ball."

Both were so caught up in their whispered conversation, they'd not noticed the quiet. The music had stopped.

Suddenly they heard someone clearing their throat. "Nott," Draco growled.

Hermione and Theo jumped. They'd not seen the blonde at the door.

"Okay, I guess that's my cue to leave," Theo said breezily as he gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you two lovebirds tomorrow!"

Hermione swallowed before turning to look at Draco. In true Slytherin fashion, his face gave nothing away, but his eyes…...he'd never been able to hide his emotions there. Right now, the grey in them was churning like a growing thunderstorm of deep emotion. If what Theo said was true…

She had to know. Gathering up her Gryffindor courage, Hermione hesitantly walked over to Draco. He watched her as she approached, a strange, determined look in her eyes.

"That piece was amazing," she acknowledged, her head tilted upward to gaze into his face. How many times before had she studied him? But she felt that moment was the first time she'd actually _seen_ him. "I'm honored that I was the inspiration for it."

She took a deep breath before slowly encircling his waist with her arms, giving him plenty of time to pull away should he choose. Hermione sighed in relief when he stayed put. Timidly putting her head on his chest, she whispered, her voice breathing out like a prayer. " _Draco_."

That was all it took.

"Hermione," he choked, burying his face in her abundant hair, his arms tightening their hold on the winsome witch. After a moment of holding her close, he lifted a hand to tilt her face upward. Then with deliberate hesitation, for he'd wanted to allow her the same luxury of refusing should she want, he lowered his head to claim her lips with his own. Both instantly felt a spark. It was like they'd been trying to remember an address, a location, a particular place all their lives, to suddenly find themselves there.

They were home.

That small act changed everything. From then on, it was Hermione and Draco. They were inseparable. George said they were worse than he and Fred had ever been, because they had occasionally done things apart from one another. But not Hermione and Draco. No, Sir. Ron called them Peat and Repeat, they were so similar. Funny how no one had figured that out before then, but seeing them together now, it was obvious. Theo said their names together were entirely too much of a mouthful. So he started calling them by their first initials. H & D caught on to the rest of their friends. But the two lovebirds, as Theo had aptly called them, were too busy falling in love to be bothered by nicknames. Hermione and Draco went shopping together. Ate together. Took holidays together to the continent. And when they discovered that neither wanted a political career, they quit their apprenticeships at the ministry and opened a library bar, the first of its kind in Diagon Alley. When Draco proposed four months later, they did something else together….

They got married.

* * *

Hermione sighed, her thoughts coming back to the present. She gave the bejeweled bands on her finger a twirl. Tomorrow was her birthday. Her first birthday as a married woman. Her first birthday as a Malfoy.

She heard her husband's footsteps as he came outside to sit with her. Draco yawned, a contented hum leaving him as as took his wife's hand after plopping down beside her. "It's nice out today."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "It is. I hope the rain holds off until the weekend."

He lazily turned his head, a smirk already blooming on his face. "That's right. We can't have the birthday girl's party ruined."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I have no control over your mother when it comes to anything celebratory. You know that."

Draco leaned over. Cupping Hermione's face with his hand, he gave her a tender kiss.

She shivered, his nearness always giving her goosebumps of delight.

Resting his forehead against hers, he sighed. "I know. I'm sorry about that. But she's had so little reason to celebrate until recently." He lifted his head. "Until you came into our lives." His eyes shined with such love, Hermione thought she would drown in them.

"I love you, husband," she whispered.

"Love you more, wife."

Together they sat, both enjoying the tranquility they found in each other's presence. Tomorrow their home would be filled with the happy noise of friends, the laughter and joy of camaraderie, the clink of silverware as the delicious food of the elves was enjoyed, the crinkle of wrapping paper being ripped, the song of wishing his beloved wife a happy return of the day. Even the sulking huffs of Draco's father, alone and unmissed, in the western wing.

But for right now, Draco and Hermione enjoyed the herald of a new season. One that promised a harvest of serenity, beauty and peace.


End file.
